


The Invincibles

by starrdust411



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Character Death, Domestic, Ensemble Cast, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 90,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a series of lawsuits forces him and the rest of the Supers into retirement, Arthur finds himself trapped living a mundane suburban life. When adventure calls he's quick to respond, but how will it affect the rest of his family? (Fusion/Crossover with The Incredibles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Glory Days

_**A Tribute to the Caped Crusade** _

_By DANIEL HAMMERSMITH  
Published October 27, 1996_

_It all started in the late 1950s. The city of Rome was not looking to make history yet again, but the valiant avenger who had emerged from within its twisted sea of columns and concrete seemed to have other ideas in mind. Roman Warrior was his name -- a patriotic, if simplistic, moniker -- the man who would become an inspirational figure for an entire country, if not the entire world. With his earliest sightings, Roman Warrior was considered nothing more than an oddly dressed Good Samaritan with a flair for the theatrics. Yet as time marched on the level of his heroic deeds escalated and soon the masked man with the garish choice in clothing was confirmed to be what many shuddered to conceive: the world's first Superhero._

_In many ways, Roman Warrior was the epitome of what all Supers would strive for, both in prowess and in temperament. Considered by many to be a living colossus, the patriarch of the Superhero community possessed astonishing strength, enhanced senses, invulnerability, and was even capable of levitation. There was also a softer side to the world renown crime fighter who had a fondness for children and a keen flair with the ladies._

_While the Roman Warrior may have been the first of his kind, he was most assuredly not the last. In seemingly no time at all, more super powered men and women -- known to the public as "Supers" -- began to emerge, dawning masks and capes in an effort to improve public safety. Soon the world was swept up in the Superhero craze and the idyllic Fifties were soon dubbed "The Golden Age of the Super Man."_

_Yet it was not meant to last. It was 1970 when the inevitable happened: the Roman Warrior, completely without warning, disappeared. Rumors abound as to the cause of the first Super's sudden retirement -- and for many, the disappearance meant the loss of the true spirit of heroics -- but as the world sat back and wondered, the Super community exploded with a new generation of costumed men and women who striven to uphold the ideals that their icon had embodied._

_Now thirty-six years later, a new batch of Supers have emerged to save the world. Members of the Super community, who chose to speak exclusively to our paper, discuss their careers and give the public a sample of what life is like wearing a mask._

_"Being a Superhero can be summed up as the worst job I've ever had," says the British born iconic avenger, Captain Invincible. "The hours are horrible, its murder on your personal life, and there are no health benefits. At the end of the day you count yourself as lucky to come home with just one broken bone."_

_Although not every Super's outlook is as dour in regards to their chosen profession. The Spanish Super, El Infierno, a cheerful soul in spite of his violent name, sees the brighter side of a life lurking in the shadows. "Well, we have these powers so it's only right that we use them to help people," says El Infierno. "And amigo do you ever feel good inside when you look back at all the lives you've changed just by doing what's right."_

_"Well seeing how I was born with so much awesome, I feel it's my duty to share it with the world," says Awesome Eagle, who agreed to speak with us when his partner, Iron Eagle, could not be reached for a quote. "Kids are always coming up to me askin' how they can be like me and I tell 'em its all genetics."_

_Genetics indeed seem to be a key factor as the number of empowered individuals has been on the rise since Roman Warrior's first appearance. Whether these special individuals had always existed and were merely hiding amongst us or if they were the byproduct of scientific experimentation is a mystery that has yet to be solved. What is certain is that these people born with spectacular gifts will undoubtedly look to our current crop of heroes for guidance._

_"Image is everything in this line of work," says the charismatic Frenchman, Monsieur Élastique. "The way we present ourselves effects how the public views all Supers. We must set a good example, for the sake of the future generations if nothing else."_

 

Arthur let out a frustrated groan as he crumpled the paper in his hands. It figured that he would be misquoted yet again. Dour outlook indeed. Hammersmith had completely neglected to print his own feelings of pride and achievement in regards to his work, choosing instead to ramble on for three full columns about Monsieur Élastique in order to inflate his ego by discussing his recent charity work, his impending movie deal, his newest costume (not that he designed any of them _himself_ , mind you), and only mentioning Captain Invincible again in order to make note of their famed "rivalry."

Rivalry. Arthur grimaced at the term. Such labels made it seem as if the two were nothing more than school children trying to one up each other and not two grown men working for the same goal.

"Sensationalist media," Arthur grumbled to himself as he tossed the wad of paper into the trash. "They'll print anything to sell a paper."

Not that he had the time to dwell on such matters. He had an appointment to keep and time, as usual, was not on his side. With a curtsey glance to his wrist he saw that he was already running late and quickly grabbed what he needed before heading out the door. He allowed himself a moment to make sure he had everything, patting the breast pocket of his coat in particular, before sprinting out of his dorm and towards his car.

No sooner was Arthur behind the wheel and on the road did his dashboard come alive, a small display screen mapping out the roadways zoning in on something as the radio scanner crackled and chattered at him. Of course. _Of course_ there would be a crime in progress at that exact moment. After all, fortune had never been in his favor. He briefly weighed his options before reluctantly increasing the volume to listen closely to the report. Apparently there had been a bank robbery downtown and the culprits who were currently being perused by the authorities were heading his way. From the display screen, it seemed that they were only a few blocks away.

Arthur gave his watch a quick glance deeming that if he were quick enough he could still make his appointment with a reasonable amount of time to spare. He had to pull over into a nearby alley to do so, but with the press of a few buttons and peeling away of his own cumbersome layers, his well worn old boat of a car was transformed into the Invinc-obile and plain Arthur Kirkland disappeared underneath the vibrant blue and red costume of Captain Invincible.

Peeling out of the alleyway at breakneck speed, Captain Invincible was amiss to realize that even with his hasty transformation, the bank robbers were now retreating further and further away. It seemed that he would have to commit a number of traffic infractions if he wanted to catch the crooks _and_ be on time for his prior commitment. Punching in a few more buttons allowed Invincible to shift into high gear. It was only thanks to quick reflexes and years of practice that he was able to nimbly miss colliding with any of the other vehicles on the road. Not that any harm would come to the Invinc-obile in such an incident. No, it was the other car that would receive the brunt of the damage, the resulting collision being akin to a tin can being stomped into a sidewalk. It was an incident that he had, unfortunately, witnessed firsthand in his earlier, more reckless days as a Super and one that he was careful not to repeat.

His eyes flickered towards the display screen once more to see that the subject of his pursuit was less than a block away, a fact made all the more apparent from the shrill wail of police sirens creeping ever closer. Rounding the corner onto the nearby avenue, he was easily able to spot a beaten down old clunker with a young man wielding a clearly illegal weapon hanging out the side window being tailed by the police. Conversely, his polished navy blue custom vehicle with the large white I decorating the hood was equally hard to miss by the crooks or the authorities, which resulted in the police easing up on their pursuit while the would be escapees turned their guns on the (bullet proof) Invinc-obile. Such recklessness. 

Fortunately for them he did not have the time to entertain the fleeing robbers. With a flick of a switch, his front hood lifted slightly, revealing a harpoon that had been until then tucked away underneath the engine. In a flash, the harpoon embedded itself into the broken down trunk in front of him. It was then only a matter of grinding to a sudden halt and dragging the clunker with him. The youth hanging out the window was more than a bit shaken up in the resulting crash and no doubt the one behind the wheel hadn't fared much better, but that was fine. The Invinc-obile hadn't sustained so much as a scratch.

Glancing at his watch for just a moment, Invincible felt certain that he had just enough time to have a quick chat with the police, just to make sure they had everything under control. That was what he told himself at least. As soon as he stepped foot out of the car, he was greeted by a sea of cheers and applause from bystanders and onlookers. At that moment he supposed he had been a bit too harsh in labeling superhero work as "the worst job I've ever had."

"Thank you, Captain Invincible," one of the officers enthused. The others were busy cuffing the bank robbers and surveying the goods tucked away in their vehicle. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"All in a day's work," Incredible replied in his typically heroic aloofness. He gave a quick nod to a group of excited youths who were currently cheering and waving towards him, before turning his attention back to the crime scene. "I trust you have everything in order."

One of the more excitable young officers responded by practically slamming one of the now cuffed thugs into the hood of her squad car. "We've got it from here Captain," she chirped eagerly.

Invincible gave her an unsteady smile just as the police scanner within the Invinc-obile came to life once more, this time announcing a nearby tour bus robbery. Wonderful. Something else to eat up his time. Giving his wrist watch a curtsey glance, he decided there was still enough time left for him to see to the second robbery and make his prior engagement.

He gave the crime scene one last glance before hurrying back to the Invinc-obile. Shutting the door and strapping himself in, he made ready to take off when...

"Here we go. Yay!"

Captain Invincible was ashamed to say he actually jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice. Getting the drop on someone like him was a rare feat indeed and the fact that it had been a small child who had surprised him was nothing short of humiliating. Turning to the passenger seat, he was startled to find a fair haired boy sitting beside him, nearly bouncing out of his chair with barely contained excitement. The child was wearing what looked like a reproduction his costume that had likely once been a pair of pajamas, an oversized scarf wrapped around his neck, and a cloth mask over his eyes.

"What the... how did you...?" he found himself stammering in what was most certainly an unheroic manner.

"I'm ready to go, Captain Invincible," the boy told him, a heavy Russian accent coloring his every word. "I will be your First Mate in crusade against crime."

It was the accent more than anything that brought the memories flooding back to him. He had met the child before, at a fan convention that he had (reluctantly... and regrettably) made an appearance at. The child had been easily the most exuberant fan there, which was no small feat in itself, taking up the majority of Invincible's time asking questions and demanding autographs. Invincible vaguely recalled the child making statements about wanting to be his side kick, but he had brushed it off as just another childish quirk. Apparently he had been very wrong.

"I... Ivan?" Invincible began hesitantly. From the way the child's eyes lit up, he saw that he was right. "Ivan Braginski? From the convention? What are you doing here?"

"I came to watch you perform your heroic deeds," the boy said eagerly. "It has always been dream of mine to watch as you punish bad men for evil ways, breaking every bone in their bodies to itty bitty pieces in the hopes that one day I may be able to do the same."

There was any uneasy feeling in the pit of Invincible's stomach at the child's admission and now more than ever he wished to rid himself of the little boy's presence. "Well, that certainly is a nice thought, but as I told you before that isn't going to happen. I work alone."

"But I can help you," Ivan pleaded. "I may not have powers, but -"

"But it's time for you to go home," he said. His words were a bit sterner than he'd intended them to be, but time was still not on his side: there was still a criminal for him to catch and an appointment to keep. At the moment, gently reminding this child that he was attempting to play a dangerous game was not high on his list of his priorities. Pressing the button on his dashboard, the side door popped open and little Ivan was ejected from his seat.

He spared a quick glance over his shoulder to make certain that the boy was alright -- a bit shaken up, but fine otherwise -- before speeding off to apprehend another criminal.

\--

He found the man on top of the roof of a nearby apartment building. The roof of all places. It was an original idea, he'd give him that, but at the moment it seemed not only a bit silly but incredibly inconvenient. After all, Invincible could not fly, and would therefore have to climb up the fire escape, or bother to go inside the building and use the stairs or the elevator, just to apprehend the man and on a day where he was in an extreme time crunch he did not feel up for the detour. Yet he knew that as a rule (as a Super, really) it would be in bad taste to break the man's neck just for wasting his time.

Still as the sun continued to sink into the horizon, Invincible found himself struggling to reel in the annoyed grunt building in his throat. Not that the man himself was any less abhorrent. Honestly, how could anyone not want to punch a man who was squatting on the top of a building rifling through stolen handbags?

"Alright friend, let's cut to the chase shall we?" Invincible began, not bothering to hide the weariness or frustration in his voice. "You've committed a crime and you've caught me in a bad mood. So what's say you make things easy on yourself and just allow me to hand you over to the authorities?"

The man responded to the sudden intrusion -- and the appearance of a famed Super no less -- as one would expect: by jumping out of his skin and scrambling away. Yet it came as no surprise when the man didn't surrender immediately and instead reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. As he watched the thief level his weapon, aiming directly for the middle of his chest, Invincible couldn't help but wonder when these fools would learn that he was, in essence, _bullet proof_. Sure a slug to the chest would sting like hell and leave a nasty bruise, but it was something he had learned to shake off over the years.

This was why even as the man cocked his weapon Captain Invincible continued to approach him. In his experience, intimidation was the best weapon. It was likely the man wouldn't shoot, would realize that he was trapped alone on the roof with Invincible and make a profound mistake which would allow this to all be over quickly.

However, before he could find out if his theory were correct, a single fist attached to an impossibly long, thin arm seemed to rocket out of nowhere and hit his potential attacker square in the jaw. The force of the blow and its unexpected appearance was enough to knock the robber off his feet and cause him to collapse in a heap on the ground.

Invincible turned his head as the arm snapped back, setting itself into place at the side of a Super clothed in a purple and white body suit. "Élastique," Invincible practically sneered. He should have expected such interference from the likes of him.

Of course, Élastique was not at all fazed by the sight of the other Super or the malice in his voice, and responded by flashing one of his usual smug smiles. "Captain Invincible," he said by way of greeting. Élastique spared a glance to man now lying in pain induced haze and his forgotten weapon at their feet before allowing his grin to widen. "Well, it looks like I arrived just in time. You should thank me."

Invincible huffed as he bent down to grab the gun and pointedly crushed it into a wad of twisted metal in his hands. "I had the situation under control."

"Oui, if by under control you mean that you were looking to get shot in the face."

"Yes, I'm sure that concern for my well being was your chief motivation for interfering where you are not wanted."

"Typical Captain Invincible, always the one man team."

"As opposed to you and your glory hogging?" he huffed. "Why don't you go call your publicist so he can find a more photogenic crime for you to stick your nose into?"

"Ohon, it sounds like someone read today's newspaper," Élastique sing songed. There was a twinkle in his eyes -- a light shade of blue that was only mildly obscured by his violet mask -- as his smirk turned hungry. "Jealous are you?"

Clearly having his cheeks turn a faint pink as he muttered a curse under his breath was not the correct way to respond to Élastique's little quip, but that was exactly what he did. The move also had the unfortunate side effect of allowing Élastique an opening to reach down and grab the unconscious man by his collar. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Invincible snapped. 

"Finishing up," Élastique said, his voice dripping with fake innocence. "I do not have all night."

"Yes, I'm sure you're due back in make up any second now," he sneered. "You must reapply the powder to your nose or else the camera crew may catch you in a bad light."

"Ah, you know me so well," he tittered, dropping the limp body in order to give the strands of blond hair not tied back and framing his face a haughty flip. "Fine, you finish up here. I am sure there are plenty of people happy to be rescued by moi."

He groaned, a single gloved hand reaching up to message his temple. Élastique always did have that sort of effect on him. "You need to be more serious," he chided.

"And you need to be more..." In the blink of an eye Élastique had stretched himself, wrapped his body around Captain Invincible's waist, looped around his neck, and slid between his legs, before finally restoring his body to its normal proportions and standing less than an inch from Invincible's chest. "... _flexible_."

Invincible couldn't be bothered to suppress the shudder that coursed through his body at the still lingering memory of that faint caress and the heat of Élastique's breath wafting against his cheek didn't make things any easier. "I hate it when you do that," he managed to grind out from between gritted teeth.

"You love it," Élastique practically purred as he swaggered towards the edge of the roof. Invincible made sure to keep his eyes trained on the horizon and most certainly _not_ on Élastique's lithe retreating form. "Adieu Capitaine."

\--

By the time he had pulled up to the restaurant, he was probably a good forty minutes late. Arthur knew he should have felt guilty, but at the moment his only concern was to make certain that his table had not been given away. Not that he held any delusions that his reservations _hadn't_ been thrown away by now. After all, not only was he unreasonably late, this was also a five star restaurant and Arthur knew he'd be lucky if they allowed him to even walk through the door. The snooty bastards running the place could probably smelled the minimum wage on him.

Needless to say he was stunned silent when he approached the maitre de’s counter and found that his table was still ready. Well, perhaps he shouldn't have been too surprised, especially when the host mentioned that his dinning partner had already been seated. Sure enough, when he entered the luxurious establishment – along with the aroma of food that cost more than his parents made in a year and the sound of a pretentious string quartet serenading the diners -- he was greeted by the sight of a blond man, sipping at a glass of wine and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Good evening, Francis," Arthur greeted dully as he approached the small table situated at the far end of the restaurant. Clearly Francis had not been perfectly on schedule himself, evident from the fact that their table was practically staring at the doors into the kitchen and were likely to be slammed the second one flung open. Still, it was nice to know that they'd at least be dinning there tonight. "You're looking groomed as always."

Francis tore his eyes away from his glass long enough to pin him with a critical gaze. "Arthur," he said simply, copying Arthur's tone and inflection perfectly. "You have rubble in your hair."

Arthur was embarrassed to admit that for a moment he did indeed look scandalized, but he told himself it was only because he was usually more careful about such things. It had nothing to do with the opulent surroundings or his present company. "Well, there was an incident," he grumbled, brushing away the few grains of dust still clinging to his blond hair.

"I'm sure," Francis sighed, motioning for Arthur to take a seat. Arthur did, but not because Francis told him to. "I already ordered. And since you are the latest, I think _you_ should pay for dinner."

It was unfortunate that Arthur had been sipping from his glass of water when Francis had said this, because he nearly choked at what he sincerely hoped was a tasteless joke. " _Me_?" he sputtered, coughed really. "With what money? Need I remind you that my income primarily consists of student loans and Top Ramen coupons?"

"There are coupons for Top Ramen?"

"Oui Monsieur Bonnefoy," he said, in his most annoying imitation of a French accent. "I know it pains you having to step down from your ivory tower to dwell among the little people and sully your delicate sensibilities with our meager problems, but -- if you can wrap you bourgeois mind around this -- not all of us were born with a silver spoon between our lips."

"I was not born with a silver spoon," Francis sniffed, before pinching the bridge of his nose and adding (in what Arthur could only _assume_ was supposed to be an English accent), "Mister Kirkland."

"Terrible," he snipped, then added, "Your parents own a bloody vineyard."

Francis shrugged. "A small one."

Their fight was temporarily put on hold as a waiter swung by to take Arthur's order. He didn't exactly have time to read over the menu, but Arthur managed to scan the list of overly priced entrees and ordered the cheapest thing he could find. When the waiter began to tell him about their wine selection, Arthur was humiliated to have Francis interject with a scandalized "Arthur are you sure you are of age?"

He flinched, willing away the red seeping into his cheeks. "I'm twenty three, you twit!" he growled, before deciding that it may be best if he didn't drink anything for the evening.

Once the waiter was gone, Francis cleared his throat before discretely retrieving a small pad and pencil from within his jacket. He gave a quick glance to their surroundings, before flipping the pages in his notebook. "How did you do tonight?" he asked in a low voice.

"Pretty good," Arthur said, his voice equally hushed. "Caught two bank robbers, a tour bus thief..."

"That was _my_ thief," Francis corrected.

"Just because you punched him, doesn't mean you got him," Arthur chided.

"Really? Because it sounds like _I_ did most of the work," he smirked.

Arthur rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair in order to give his breast pocket a discrete (albeit self conscious) pat. "Fine, have it your way," he relented. "It's not as if you'd be able to top me. I did manage to stop a jumper _and_ rescue a train full of people."

"From something you nearly caused, I am sure."

Arthur managed to hide his flush by taking a quick sip from his glass, but it was clearly not enough to dismiss Francis's suspicions. "Well it was one of Bombs Aweigh's explosives that had caused the tracks to be destroyed, but that's not important."

"Ah oui, a bomb wielding costumed terrorist running loose in the city is only a minor concern."

"You don't understand, there was this little Russian boy -- Evan or Ivan or whatever -- who kept popping up out of nowhere and getting in the way! He distracted me. I had to have the bloody police take him home just so..." Arthur's words came to a gradual halt at the look of utter boredom stayed fixed on Francis's face. "Fine! Dock points against me," he huffed. "Let's hear how you did." 

Francis responded by giving a long sigh, his blue eyes looking down at his notes sadly and leaving Arthur thoroughly satisfied. "Not good I am afraid. Even with the bus thief I only managed to intercept one jewelry heist and stop a mugging in the park. But in my defense, I was trying to keep our reservations."

"Your priorities are in order, I see," Arthur droned. "Well, I say that makes me the winner."

Another dramatic sigh was his reward. "I suppose that means I will be picking up the tab tonight after all."

\--

The late October air was crisp against his exposed skin. Winter was creeping up on them quicker than even the weathermen could predict and the slight chill that ran through him was yet another thing to add to his list of reasons why they _shouldn't have_ left his car behind. But Francis had insisted they walk to their next destination, citing that the second Arthur slipped behind the wheel, he'd spend the rest of the evening listening to the police scanner. Not that one could really blame him for wanting to do his job, but he relented anyway. Tonight was one night that he owed Francis his full attention.

Arthur gave his coat another pat before stuffing his fists deep into his pockets. He briefly wondered what everyone else was doing tonight. He imagined Iron Eagle perched on some roof top scanning the alleyways and streets below him as Awesome Eagle talked endlessly about one thing or the other. He pictured El Infierno peeking into windows and smiling at happy families, while still trying to be mindful to any cries of terror or screams of pain. Far away he could practically see Bombs Aweigh plotting his next heist as Red Dragon counted his gold and Iron Skillet planned on taking down the Atomic Emperor. All this was happening somewhere in the night as he and Francis roamed the streets as if they didn't have a care in the world.

Just two ordinary people on an ordinary night.

"Where are we going?" Francis asked suddenly, drawing Arthur out of his musings. "Somewhere nice I hope."

"Actually I'm heading down to the diamond district," Arthur said. "I heard that some of the local crime bosses were planning on making a move on this quaint little jeweler--"

Francis responded to his joke by sticking a foot out in front of him, causing Arthur to stumble and nearly collide face first into the side walk. "That is not funny," Francis snipped bitterly. "You are with me tonight, Arthur, your mind should be as far away from our work as possible."

"I wish there were reporters here to catch you saying that," he chuckled. He rounded the corner and was pleased to find Francis doing so as well, keeping in stride with him without seeming to realize where they were. "The oh-so heroic and charitable Monsieur Élastique does not like to discuss work matters in his off hours. It gives 'im quite ze 'eadache!"

"This is why I normally reframe from associating with children," Francis huffed, tossing his hair over his shoulders in a haughty manner. "You are so prone to jealousy. Simply because Monsieur Hammersmith found me to be the more interesting topic for his article you have to turn into the green eyed monster."

"Hammersmith was clearly taken in by your over the top French accent and cheese eating grin. Honestly what did you do to get him to mention that your popularity with the ladies is 'second only to Roman Warrior's legendary status' or to say that you are the 'fashion icon of the Superhero world'? He only printed one bloody quote from everyone else, yet he dedicated an entire page to you!"

"What can I say?" Francis tittered. "I simply have a way with reporters. People tend to feel drawn to my warm presence. I do not have the disposition of a hardened war veteran, like certain Supers I know. Besides, you are exaggerating, mon cher. You were quoted twice! And there was a particularly cute one at that." 

Arthur felt his eyes actually widen when, in that instant, Francis reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out the very paper they had been discussing. "You were carrying that with you the entire time?" he sputtered, marveling at how the man was able to thumb through the pages without breaking his stride. "You truly are a glutton for the spotlight."

"Ah, here we are," Francis said, going on as if Arthur hadn't spoken a word. "Right here, in the closing comments." Francis cleared his throat dramatically before, in a clear, practiced voice read, "'When asked where they see themselves in the years ahead, many Supers respond that they will continue fighting the good fight, yet one such hero has other plans in mind. "We cannot keep living as vigilantes forever," says Captain Invincible in his usual somber tone. "Someday, we will all have to go the way of Roman Warrior and take off the mask for good." When asked to elaborate, Invincible's response is uncharacteristically sentimental. "Call me old fashion, but I'd like to settle down. Perhaps even start a family."'"

By the time Francis had finished reading his own words, Arthur's face was an unsightly shade of red. He was thankful that it was dark and difficult to see, but that didn't stop Francis from laughing and cooing over the quote that Arthur had given so long ago that he had forgotten all about it.

"So cute!" Francis gushed between fits of laughter. "Captain Invincible wants to play house. Tell me, will Mrs. Invincible be the perfect little housewife? Will she fetch your pipe and massage your feet after a long day in the office? How many children will there be? Two? Three? Perhaps you should get a doggy? Yes! Train him to get your slippers or the newspaper."

Arthur came to a halt then, jamming his fists so deeply into his pockets that the fabric actually began to rip. "I'm glad you find this all so amusing."

Francis took in a few calming breaths as he came to a stop beside Arthur, folding the offending paper in his hands. "Oh Arthur, do not be so uptight. It is cute, that is all."

"Cute" certainly wasn't a term that Arthur was accustomed to having associated with his name, not even when he was a (admittedly) bushy browed toddler wrapping blankets around his neck and declaring himself Roman Warrior, but that was neither here nor there. He cleared his throat, hoping to once more erase another blush from his cheeks and regain some composure. "Yes, well, look around," he instructed. "Do you know where we are?"

To his credit, Francis actually did as he was instructed for once, twisting around and inspecting the intersection they had stopped in with a critical frown. "We are in a very bad neighborhood," Francis tsked. "Honestly Arthur, I thought we just talked about this."

"Look at the street sign you git!" Arthur snapped wearily. Already this whole situation wasn't going as he'd envisioned and he suddenly feared that it would soon all spiral downhill.

Francis looked up at the twin green signs marking off the sidewalk as being the corner of "Thirteenth and Washington," words that he read with a noted lack of recognition. Arthur tried not to look crushed.

"This is where we met," Arthur supplied finally. "You mistook me for a prowler and punched me in the jaw. I responded by throwing you into a parking meter."

"Ah, oui," Francis said at last, his voice more fond than bitter and Arthur took that as a good sign. "Fortunately I bounced back, non?"

Arthur allowed himself an awkward chuckle, barely audible over the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears, as his fumbling hands reached into his coat pocket. Francis didn't seem to be catching on to anything and that worried him. Francis was anything but dense and always had a keen sense for romantic gestures, so if he wasn't tuned into this one (as pathetic as it was) then Arthur was really in trouble. 

"Francis, I..." Arthur began, but words suddenly failed him. The carefully practiced speech that he had prepared was evaporating in his mind and only brief snippets of it still lingered. Something about destiny and timing or something having brought them together. Francis was giving him a dubious look and Arthur knew that he had to act quickly if he wanted to stay afloat. "Oh bugger," he breathed, seeing that all pretense of romance was lost. "Francis, I want you to marry me." 

"Eh?"

"Marry me."

"Quoi?"

This time Arthur's fingers managed to steady themselves long enough for him to actually grasp the ring he'd stuffed into his coat months ago in between his thumb and forefinger. When Francis only continued to stare, Arthur decided to get down on one knee in order to emphasize his point. "Please marry me?" he said finally. "I... I find you so damn annoying, but you understand me and I understand you and sometimes when you're not around I start arguments with random people just to fill the void, but it's not enough because when we snap at each other there's more behind it than just pure animosity and I suppose what I'm saying is that I don't think I'd ever be able to find anyone else like you so... please say you'll marry me?"

Francis still looked stunned and lost and Arthur was bracing himself for the inevitable "no" forming on his lips.

"Arthur," Francis breathed, his voice unusually quiet. It was weird. "That is a woman's ring."

He flinched back in shame at the observation. "It was my Nan's," he admitted. "I couldn't afford a new one."

A soft frown creased Francis's brow. "You want me to be Mrs. Invincible?"

Something inside of him shriveled up and died and suddenly Arthur felt a pain that was ten times worse than a dozen bullets to his gut. "You're rejecting me aren't you?" he asked, lowering his arms regrettably. "I'm sorry I asked."

Francis's hand reached out to him then, grasping the fingers that still clung desperately to his Nan's engagement ring, as the uncertain look lingered on Francis's face. "I want to say yes, but..."

"But?"

"But..." Francis shook his head. "I cannot be Mrs. Invincible."

Arthur raised a confused eyebrow, not at all certain where Francis was going with all of this. "Well... I'm not really..."

"And you cannot be Captain Invincible," Francis cut in. "Not all the time. You must promise that you will put me first, not always but when it counts."

Arthur smiled, a genuine smile -- a gesture that was so rare to him that his cheeks actually stung a bit -- as he pressed the ring onto Francis's finger (as well as he could). "Francis, you'll always come first for me."


	2. Sentenced to Domesticity

_**Supers Remove the Masks -- Americans Rest Easy** _

_By DANIEL HAMMERSMITH  
Published November 5, 1999_

_It was the case that changed the nation. Nearly two years ago, a local citizen -- whose identity was withheld from the public -- shocked the world by filing a class action lawsuit against none other than Captain Invincible after the Super foiled his suicide attempt causing the civilian to sustain massive injuries -- among the most severe a broken neck -- in the process. The plaintiff demanded that Invincible be held responsible for his medical bills, citing that he did not want to be saved and that the Super only caused him unbearable pain and stagger debt thanks to his "heroics."_

_Captain Invincible, who had remained tight lipped throughout the litigation, seemed to remain confident during the proceedings, certain that the judicial system would find him innocent of any wrong doing, only to be stunned when the court ruled in his victim's favor._

_It was the first case of its kind, but would not be the last._

_Less than one month after the first suit had been filed, Captain Invincible found himself being served yet again, this time in a joint suit filed by the passengers of a local train that had practically been derailed by Invincible. According to Invincible, he had been attempting to prevent the train from falling off of the tracks as a large section of the bridge had been decimated by the explosives wielding menace Bombs Aweigh. This stunt, however, resulted in a majority of the passengers sustaining injuries ranging from minor to server._

_Soon a proverbial flood gate was opened upon the Super community as numerous suits and court summons were brought against those who had once claimed to protect the people. Overnight it seemed as if the vocal minority that had previously spoken out against the potentially destructive presence of Supers had boomed into a thunderous majority. The public, however, was not satisfied with simply tying up the empowered populace in litigation. Groups of concerned citizens quickly banned together in hopes of putting a stop to a group that had, to them, out lived their use._

_As many critics cited, the Superheroes on a daily basis caused more destruction than they actually prevented. Car collisions, train wrecks, and even the demolition of entire buildings were common occurrences during a typical brawl that would occur during a Super's attempted apprehension of would be culprits._

_"We have professionally trained men and women paid to take down crime," one citizen commented. "They're called the police!"_

_And what of the Super villains? Many Supers argue that their existence is necessary in order to handle their empowered -- and often times mentally unhinged -- adversaries, but therein lies another set of problems. Where was the Super villain prior to the creation of the Superhero? Studies have shown that before Roman Warrior's first sightings there were no megalomaniacs wielding freeze guns or shrink rays in the hopes of holding the world for ransom or threatening to tear down society brick by brick._

_"The Supers create the Super villains," said the leader of the Anti-Super society NORMAL. "It's their way of making the public believe they're indispensible, but with enough training and state founding, a typical police officer can easily handle any super powered threat they can throw at us."_

_Although seemingly reluctant to voice an opinion, the federal government eventually relented to the demands of the citizens by creating the Super Relocation Program. Under this new legislature, all Supers will be required to retire from their crime fighting ways and refrain from using their superpowers while assuming new identities as average citizens. In exchange for adhering to the new law the Supers will avoid jail time and any financial responsibility for their past deeds._

_Now, on the brink of the new millennium, it seems that the 90s have at last taken down one last out dated industry. The public can now look forward to a bright future safe from men and women mistaking themselves for gods._

 

**Spring 2011**

Arthur didn't want to take another phone call. Even though the shrill sound of the phone ringing off the hook was like nails against a blackboard in his ears, his hand could not be bothered to so much as touch the cold plastic. He honestly didn't think he had it in him to answer the phone one more time and listen to another sob story from a woman raising two children on her own whose house was broken into or a retired war veteran living on a fixed income with a flooded basement and having to explain to each and every one of them why Insuricare would not be able to cover their claim.

He hated this job, hated it with a fiery passion so intense that at times he felt certain it would burn a giant hole inside of him, and every second of every minute of every hour of every long miserable day he regretted accepting this position. 

Yet, he hadn't had a choice, because the day they'd all went into hiding Francis's parents had cut him off and they were still planning for a wedding that seemed less and less likely to happen and they were struggling to pay back Arthur's student loans after the stressful lawsuits had forced him to drop out of graduate school and were looking at a rent that was beyond their reach and had discovered that Francis was a carrier of a one in a million gene among male Supers that allowed them to get pregnant, because he had taken a test and it had turned out positive. So on the day that his case worker handed him a brochure for Insuricare saying that he could only get him as far as the interview, Arthur had seen the desk job and steady income as a blessing from above.

Now after over a decade of working at an office so gray he'd have to slit his wrists to remember what colors looked like, of sitting in a cubicle that was as far away from a widow as possible, of staring into a computer screen he was certain was killing his brain cells day by day, Arthur was finding it hard to believe that he had ever been remotely excited to be a claims adjustor for a soul sucking organization such as Insuricare. Yet if anyone ever asked him why he hadn't quit yet, he'd be able to name four reasons right off the bat.

With a frustrated groan, he finally willed himself to grab the damn receiver (mindful not to crush it in his grasp no matter how good it'd feel) before answering with an incredibly dull "Insuricare, Arthur Kirkland speaking."

"Angelique did the funniest thing today," Francis's voice practically gushed from the phone's earpiece and Arthur let out yet another groan.

He didn't hate Francis's phone calls, but he was frequently annoyed by them, particularly when Francis opened up with an anecdote about something the children did. That usually meant that Francis had broken something or replaced something or was looking to buy something. Whatever the cause, it would inevitably cost Arthur more money than they had and he would then be forced to remind Francis once again that he was not living off of a trust fund anymore. 

"I'm sure it'll be a right stitch," Arthur droned.

"She was watching that puppet show -- what is it? -- Sesame Street, and the trash monster came on screen and Angelique looked at him and said 'Dada! Dada!'" Francis was practically howling with laughter and Arthur found himself frowning distastefully into the phone. "You see, it is funny because you are both grumpy and have big eyebrows."

"That's not funny."

"It is hysterical."

"I'm not laughing." Craning his neck upward slightly, he looked around the rows of hallway to make sure none of his supervisors were on the floor. The last thing he needed was to be caught on another personal call. "Listen Francis, I can't really talk right now. What's the real reason you're calling?"

"What would you say if I told you we needed to buy a new dishwasher?" Francis asked casually, too casually.

"I'd say that's four hundred dollars that we can't afford right now!" he practically hollered. "What the bloody hell happened to the one we just bought last month?"

"Nothing. It is fine," Francis said and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "But the vacuum is broken." 

Francis had always been the lucky one of the two. Born to a modestly rich family, he hadn't need a job or a loan or (an abundance of) help from any government agency to support his Superhero work. He had lived off of his family's wealth and only needed the various costumes that he'd manipulated away from that poor Italian supplier to fight crime. Then the crusade against Supers had hit the media and Francis, not wanting them to hear it from someone else, had outted himself as Monsieur Élastique to his parents. They cut him off faster than one could open a bottle of Chardonnay, leaving Francis to drawn in a sea of depth and paternity suits (all of which were thrown out once the DNA tests proved that he had fathered none of his alleged children).

Arthur had always felt horrible that he had had nothing to offer Francis other than the addition of his own debt and legal troubles. He knew he couldn't return Francis to the lavish lifestyle he had been born into, but he could promise him that he'd always be there as emotional support. Looking back, however, Arthur suspected that it had always been financial support that Francis was interested in, because as soon as they had gained a bit of financial stability, Francis took advantage of the situation, mainly by changing jobs whenever a new impulse struck him. One day he was a travel agent, the next it was data processing, and the next he was looking to work in the restaurant industry. At long last he had settled on something, photography, but he worked infrequently and spent most of his time at home giving him plenty of opportunities to wreck the house.

It was partially Arthur's fault, because there were times he forgot that Francis was not a househusband. No, a man such as Francis was not made to spend all day long locked in a house mending clothes and dusting furniture and he let that fact be known by breaking every appliance in the house. Whether it was constantly confusing the washer and dryer ("Which one is top loading and which one is side loading?") or putting dish soap in the dishwasher ("Soap is soap! It should work!"), Francis was useless at anything that didn't involve shopping. And cooking.

"How did it happen?" Arthur asked, struggling to keep his voice as calm and even as possible unless he draw unwanted attention to himself.

"I was vacuuming boys' room -- you know how messy that floor can get -- and then poof! Smoke."

"I think there are a few large holes in your story. You don't go from vacuuming the floor to smoke."

"Well I am going to buy a new one. I saw a commercial for one the other day. It is bagless and goes around corners easily and-"

"And if it costs in the triple digits it's out of our price range," Arthur cut in. "Just... use a broom for now."

"But I have allergies!"

"Since when?"

"My skin is delicate."

" _Since when_!" It was at that moment that Arthur saw his boss approaching, his blond head of hair peaking over the drab gray rows of cubicles like a shark's dorsal fin cutting through the waves. "Francis, I have to go. I see my supervisor coming."

"Alright. I have to pick up the boys anyway. I will see you at home."

"Yeah, right," Arthur muttered, hanging up the phone as quickly as possible. It wasn't quick enough, however, as a second before his receiver could land back on its cradle, the man was already standing in front of his desk.

" _Kirkland_!" The one word was said with so much force and volume that Arthur actually found his desk shaking from the aftershock. "Why did you authorize approval on the Lopez account!"

"Their car was stolen, Mr. Zwingli," he managed to say, still startled from Zwingli's spontaneous arrival. "They're a single income family and they need-"

"I don't care," the man barked, hand slamming down against the dull wood surface of Arthur's desk. There were times that Arthur wondered if Vash Zwingli had ever been a Super. He cut such a startling image with his permanent frown and dedication to authority. Yet Arthur always shook those thoughts away. Zwingli was far too bureaucratic and neutral to ever dawn tights and a mask to fight for good or evil. "I don't care about their car and I don't care about your excuses. This is a company. We make money. How are we supposed to make money if you keep approving every sob story and hard luck case that passes under your nose?"

"I... I'm sorry." The words tasted bitter on his tongue. He rarely apologized and the idea of doing so because he had helped people made him feel sick inside. Moments like this he could clearly picture the part of himself that had once been Captain Invincible crumble away bit by bit in utter shame. 

"You should be," Zwingli continued to fume. "Now stop being such a damn bleeding heart. This is a business! People who can't perform professionally are dead weight on the pay roll." He turned to stomp away, but stopped suddenly, as if remembering something important at the last minute. "And no more personal calls. This isn't a hair salon. Save the chit chat for when you're out the door." And this time he did stomp away, seemingly kicking at the half wall of Arthur's cubicle on the way out, knocking over a few pictures along the way.

\--

It looked like so much fun. As he sat on the patch of grass watching the other kids from between the gaps in the chain linked fence, Alfred couldn't help but imagine himself in their place. No, he'd be better than all of them. He'd be the best. 

Track team? He could do that with his eyes closed. Alfred could just imagine himself running laps around the track. He wouldn't need to stretch or even get into position. The second the whistle blew he'd be off, feet pounding, wind whizzing through his hair as he made it around the track once, twice, three times before the other kids could even make it past the bend.

Football? Not a problem. He'd intercept any throw, block any pass, and always be the one to catch the ball and go sprinting towards the end zone for an instant touchdown. No one would be able to even lay a finger on his jersey.

Baseball? Child's play. He was already a dynamite hitter, everyone knew that. It was all about timing after all, and his sharp eyes could keep up with any pitch. _Crack!_ The ball would connect perfectly with the smooth wood of his bat and even before the ball went airborne he'd have already rounded all three bases and slide home with only a cloud of dust and the dirt on his cleats to prove that he had made the rounds.

He could do all of it, he could do _anything_ , except that he wasn't allowed to do anything. His parents would have a fit if they'd ever heard of him showing off his talents, they'd probably end up having to pack up all their stuff and change towns if Alfred ever let loose and allowed himself to use his full speed. That's why every time there was a physical activity he'd have to sit out. Whenever it came time for gym class Alfred was always forced to hand in fake doctor's notes with forged signatures giving some dumb medical reason to excuse him from the day's workout.

Alfred peeled his eyes away from the football field were a group of boys were busy kicking a ball around and instead focused his attention on tearing up fists full's of grass and throwing them into the wind. It wasn't fair. Being born with powers that he had to keep hidden was like living life as only half a person.

"Do you see the car yet?" 

Alfred turned his gaze towards the pile of floating clothes hiding under the stone steps leading up to science building before craning his neck towards the road. He didn't see any familiar cars passing by, so he simply shook his head. "Not yet."

"Do you see anyone coming?"

He knew what that meant. Apparently some kids wanted Mattie's homework and instead of taking action, instead of allowing Alfred to help, instead of using his awesome force fields to fight the bullies off, Mattie had responded by disappearing. Alfred was annoyed, but he was also jealous. Mattie could use his powers and not get caught, but Alfred couldn't do anything (except put the occasional thumb tack on an unsuspecting substitute's chair. Classic). It seemed like hiding was a talent they both shared.

A car horn honked just as Alfred was about to sprinkle some grass unto an unsuspecting ant pile. He looked up just in time to see a dark green mini-van pulling up to the school gates. "Ride's here," Alfred announced, tossing the blades of grass at what he assumed was his brother's head before grabbing his backpack. 

Mattie was visible again before a single blade could touch his hair, but he still shot Alfred an annoyed glare before picking up his own things. "Not funny."

"Race you to the car?"

Mattie's frown softened, turning more tired than annoyed. "What's the point? You always win."

\--

"Bonjour les garcons," Francis sing songed as the twins scrambled into the van, Alfred climbing into the front seat while Mathieu slipped into the back. "How was school?"

A soft "okay" and an exaggerated groan of "lame" were his simultaneous replies. He chuckled to himself as he pulled out of the school parking lot and back onto the road.

"Papa, Angelique's throwing her baby crackers again," Mathieu reported dutifully.

"Hey Pops I've got something for you to sign," Alfred boasted, his voice clearly indicating that he wanted something Francis couldn't give him.

Glancing into his rearview mirror, Francis could clearly see that Mathieu was right and that Angelique -- chubby cheeks covered with crumbs and globs of barely chewed food -- was ready to throw another fist full of crackers. At his side, Alfred was focused on digging around in his book bag, no doubt looking for the papers he had been talking about. "Mathieu take those crackers away from her. I am sure she has had enough anyway. Alfred, whatever it is I cannot look at it while I am driving."

"Alright, I'll just read them to you," Alfred volunteered, shuffling papers as he spoke. "Football season is already over, but try outs for next year's team will be starting soon. All I need you to do is sign right down here and-"

"Non," Francis said as he came to a gentle halt at a red light. A crossing guard marched out into the middle of the street, brandishing a red sign in the air as a row of school children walked safely behind him. Francis sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as his eyes swept over the busy intersection. 

"Okay, not a football fan," Alfred said confidently, considering Francis's answer only a minor setback as he reshuffled his papers. "How about baseball? The season's already started, but I talked to the coach and he said-"

"Non."

"How 'bout track?"

"Non."

"Soccer?"

"Non."

" _Tennis_?"

"Non!" Francis let out a long sigh as the last child stepped safely onto the sidewalk and the light finally changed to green. He wished that Arthur were here with him. Arthur was so much better at playing the bad cop than he was. If Francis had his way, he'd give the children everything they asked for and more. He needed Arthur to be the stern voice of reason. Being level headed and restricting just didn't suit him.

"S'il vous plaît Papa," Alfred whined and Francis felt a knife twisting in his heart. He couldn't resist his children when they spoke French. "You have to let me do _something_! I promise I'll hold back. I'll only be the best by the _tiniest_ bit."

"Alfred F. Kirkland-Bonnefoy, you ask me the same thing at least once a year," Francis chided. "And each time I tell you the same thing: no. It is just too dangerous." He frowned as he adjusted his review mirror so that he could get a better look at Mathieu. "Do you know what happens to children with superpowers?" he asked them both.

The twins responded with uniformed eye rolls and practiced groans. They'd heard this before, mostly from Arthur, but it was all very routine by now.

"They get taken away," Francis finished when neither boy answered. "Men in suits come to their homes in the middle of the night and steal them out of their beds! Then they are locked away and never seen again."

It was a slight exaggeration, but not enough of one for Francis's comfort. It had been a little more than ten years ago when the government had once gain buckled under the pressure set upon them by the small minded and frightened public and passed a law forbidding all Supers from "breeding" (as they coldly put it) and making the offspring of Supers illegal. The day the new law was passed, something inside Francis had shriveled up and died knowing that yet another freedom had been stolen from him. At the time, neither he nor Arthur had been considering another child, but to know that the choice had been taken away from them was a sickening feeling.

Worse still was the knowledge that their children were no longer safe. Suddenly the powers that the twin had exhibited almost from birth were even more of a danger and could result in them being ripped away from them.

When the abductions started, the "men in suits" did not come in the middle of the night, but in the middle of the day disguised as child service agents removing the children to place them in "foster homes." Those foster homes were just government facilities where children were taken to be studied and monitored and trained to use their powers. It was said that the adducted youths were supposed to be returned when they reached eighteen or learned to use their abilities effectively, but Francis had never heard anything about their release.

The twins had been toddlers when it all started, old enough to begin to display their abilities but not old enough to understand how to control them. Francis still remembered how he and Arthur had stayed up night after night for at least a year pacing the house wondering when someone would come to take their children away.

That day never came and although both Arthur and Francis were eternally grateful, they knew that it was only a matter of time before the normal facade slipped and their family was torn apart.

But Alfred and Mathieu could not remember those dark days and could not truly grasp the fear that lurked in the hearts of their fathers. As far as they knew, Arthur and Francis were just hiding -- hiding them, hiding themselves, hiding a world of possibilities -- but Francis slept soundly at night knowing that it was all for their own good.

"I am sorry Alfred, but it is just a risk we cannot afford to take," he told him, glancing over to see Alfred's face crumble under the weight of disappointment once again. "Perhaps we can try to find something else for you to do." It was an empty promise. After all, there was no way that Alfred could use his speed without drawing unwanted attention towards the family.

He was thankful that this was one issue he'd never have to fret over with Angelique. It had been about two years ago that Arthur and Francis had felt that they were ready to have another child. Of course the government's restrictions on reproduction among Supers meant that the natural option had been firmly taken off the table. Yet the harsh regulations on the Super community were not without its (odd) benefits. Now that defending the world against the threat of super powered men and women was the top priority among Americans, the idea of same sex marriage and adoption didn't seem to be as great of an issue.

That didn't mean that the adoption process was any easier. The extensive background checks were agonizing and for a while they had thought that their previous career choices would eliminate them out right. Yet a miracle seemed to have occurred as the names "Captain Invincible" and "Monsieur Élastique" did not show up on their files (the Relocation Program must have been more thorough than Francis gave them credit for), but still it was not smooth sailing from there as the couple had to search through dozens of bright eyes and smiling faces to finally find the baby who would be a perfect fit for their family.

And then there was little Angelique. The moment she had been placed in his arms Francis knew that she was meant to be theirs. Angelique had been the child of a young woman who had come to the (no doubt painful) conclusion that she would not be able to care for her child after the father had walked out on her. Angelique was perfect and beautiful and sweet and wonderfully uncomplicated. It wasn't as if he resented the twins or their abilities. Francis loved all of his children, but he would admit that there were aspects to each that he appreciated, such as Alfred's confident nature and Mathieu's polite disposition. He'd be lying if he said he didn't consider Angelique being powerless as a blessing. It was nice to have an infant who didn't crawl away at lightning speed the second you turned your head or one who disappeared from sight in the middle of a bath. 

Of course with the addition of Angelique came the concern as to whether she would fit in among her siblings. Francis knew that the boys loved Angelique, but there were times when it seemed that sparks of jealousy would fly around her. Not for the attention that she would receive from Arthur or (more likely) Francis, because the boys were at the age where they wanted more independence then affection from their fathers. No, it seemed that the twins resented Angelique for the burden that she would never know. Even now, Francis caught the sight of Alfred (and Mathieu!) pinning unsuspecting Angelique with an envious stare.

He shook his head wearily as he pulled into their driveway. Parenthood was certainly a challenge that all his years of costumed crime fighting had not prepared him for.

\--

Thank goodness the day was almost over. After being stuck in his shabby little cubicle for nearly eight hours, being crammed in his little shoebox of a car in hour long bumper to bumper traffic had only helped to add to the tension building inside of him and made the tie wrapped around his throat feel even more like a noose. 

When he finally pulled into the driveway, he started to feel human again... that was until he stepped on Alfred's skateboard and nearly broke his neck. Yes, his next battle for the day would be of the domestic variety, because as he had learned over the years handling a family was like walking through a mine field.

Stepping inside the single level home, Arthur still remembered clearly the days when his arrival would be met with much fanfare and fuss. Before the boys had been born, Francis would greet him with a long throaty kiss that would say "thank you for doing this for us" more clearly than words ever could. When the twins were younger the first thing he'd hear as he walked in the door were duel cries of delight before he would be bend down to find two pairs of bright blue eyes staring up at him fondly, asking him questions about his day, telling him they'd missed him, and wrapping their small arms around him as best as they could.

Today... today there was no one. The boys were most likely locked away in their room doing homework or avoiding it as best as they could, while Francis busied himself in the kitchen with dinner. The only "welcoming" sight he could find was Francis's bloody bird flapping its little wings from inside its cage and singing its usual song. That damn pigeon always tweeted up a storm whenever there was the slightest disturbance in the house, which was quite often.

Setting down his brief case by the door, Arthur made his way into the kitchen where he found Francis -- as expected -- standing over the stove fretting over patties of ground beef sizzling within a pan. Francis's full concentration was on his task while Arthur's eyes zoned in on his hair. It was pulled back into a short pony tail, tied off with a single blue ribbon as shorter loose strands of hair fell free from their confines to frame Francis's face. The sight sent a strange thrill through Arthur's body. It seemed that the only time he could bring himself to feel excited about Francis was when he wore his hair up. 

It wasn't because Francis wasn't still attractive -- time had been very good to him, especially when one considered that Francis was now on the other side of forty and barely had any wrinkles or laugh lines to be seen -- but because when Arthur saw him this way he was reminded of his Monsieur Élastique days. Francis had always tied his hair back when fighting crime and just that slight glimpse into the past was enough to light a small fire within Arthur's belly. 

He snuffed it out -- because dear God was he tired and not at all in the mood -- and greeted his husband instead with a quick peck on the cheek. Truly marriage was a force of unimaginable evil if it had the ability to make sex with a man whose body could bend and contort into any shape seem like a chore.

"You're making hamburgers?" he commented. Francis hated the American idea of "comfort food" and usually refused to cook anything that even tipped toe into that category unless he was feeling particularly generous. Or guilty.

"Oui," Francis sighed. "Alfred is in a bad mood."

"Oh," he said quietly, guessing right away what could have caused this. He sighed as he headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. "What team was it this time?"

"All of them," Francis said mournfully. "I spoke with him, of course, but he was still upset. I am hoping this will brighten his spirits a bit."

Arthur merely rolled his eyes at the comment as he took a long swallow from his drink. It was typical of Francis to use food as an emotional band-aid and if he had noticed the irony, then he had yet to show it. 

It was at that moment that baby Angelique decided to chime in, kicking her legs and chattering non-sense loudly as if to say "I'm here! Look at me!" to her preoccupied parents. "Yes, Angelique, I see you," Arthur laughed as he reached over to caress her soft brown cheek with the back of his hand. 

Francis cleared his throat in a loud, dramatic fashion and tapped his skillet with the edge of his metal spatula, effectively drawing Arthur's attention firmly away from Angelique's cooing figure. "Do not touch the baby!" Francis chided. "Your hands are probably filthy."

"What makes you think I haven't washed them yet?"

"You never do."

Arthur huffed as he finished off the rest of his beer before heading to the sink to scrub at his hands. "Oh calm down," he grumbled. "One little touch isn't going to cause her entire immune system to shut down."

"You do not know what germs you may have picked up during the day."

"I work in a bloody office, Francis!" he snapped. "It's not as if I'm wandering through the junkyard rolling around in garbage all day."

"It is better safe than sorry. We do not want to have to rush the baby to the emergency room just because you want to prove a point."

"Yes, I'm sure I'm going to accidentally infect her with smallpox just because I forget to wash my hands once," he grumbled as he turned back towards the refrigerator to grab another can of beer. "I'll be in the den reading the paper."

"Fine Captain Morgan," Francis snipped. "I will call you when dinner is ready."

\--

Berwald Oxenstierna.

Why did that name seem so familiar to him? Arthur felt his frown deepen as he read over the news article for what must have been the dozenth time. There was something about this particular story that had caught his attention, but for some reason his mind couldn't place it. According to the paper a local man, Berwald Oxenstierna, had gone missing two weeks ago. Oxenstierna had last been seen on his way to work, but had failed to return home. Quotes from his friends and family all regarded this behavior as "unusual" and wished only for Oxenstierna's safe return.

He hummed, tapping the brim of his beer with the tips of his fingers. Over all it was not an unusual story -- people went missing every day after all -- but that name...

"Alfred, put the video game away."

"How come Dad gets to read the newspaper at the table, but I can't play video games?"

"Arthur?"

He muttered a quick "just a minute" in response, because this was going to gnaw at him all night and it wasn't as if he were in the mood for hamburgers anyway (although he would admit that they did smell good). His eyes slowly drifted to the small black and white picture printed beside the article with " _Have you seen me?_ " typed out underneath. The man in the picture appeared to be around his age with light colored hair cropped short and swept mostly to the side. A pair of wire thin glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his stony gaze was...

Stonewall.

That was it. He was a Super. Berwald "Stonewall" Oxenstierna hadn't been a big name among the Super community and Arthur hadn't really had much experience working with him, but he had heard a few things here and there about him. Stonewall had been a man a few words, his tight lipped nature and massive figure enough to send even the most harden foes into terrified quivers. The last Arthur had heard was that the giant Swede had settled down with some Finish bloke and started a family.

He wondered what could have happened to old Stonewall. Had he really just up and disappeared? Had the years of isolation been too much for him? Or was there something else at work?

His musings were cut off when his newspaper was suddenly yanked away. He looked up just in time to see Francis's arms stretching out from his end of the dinner table like twin hoses to grab his newspaper and Alfred's hand held game and Arthur was mildly annoyed to admit that he released a petulant whine that could easily rival Alfred's own cries of displeasure.

"Naughty children," Francis teased as he retracted his hands back to their usual length. "You can have your toys back after dinner."

"Very funny," Arthur droned, giving his beer an annoyed tap. To his dismay he found the drumming of his fingers was met with a hollow tinkle. He sighed, pushing himself away from the table and the plate of half eaten food before him. "I'm going to get..." His words came to a steady halt at the sight of Francis's irritated gaze. "... a glass of water."

"Mathieu, you have not touched your dinner," Francis noted as Arthur made his way past the boy and into the kitchen.

The boy muttered something too soft for Arthur's ears to detect as he headed to the sink, rinsing out the last remains of beer from within his can before loading it into the specially placed recycling bin under the sink. Arthur sighed, tired green eyes flickering towards the clock mounted on the wall before switching to gaze out the window at the quickly setting sun. He was tempted to grab another can anyway, but he supposed it would be best to cut himself off for tonight. 

With another sigh -- this one more irritated than the last -- Arthur grabbed a glass from the top cabinet, poured himself a glass of water, and headed back to the table.

"When can we have pancakes for dinner again?" Matthew was asking just as Arthur re-entered the dining room.

"The next time Papa forces me to cook," Arthur said only half joking. Years of living with Francis had helped to improve his skills in the kitchen, but not by much. Arthur could now make breakfast well enough to be eaten, but it still wasn't exactly pleasing to the palate. Not that Matthew cared. As far as Matthew was concerned pancakes and waffles were just an excuse to consume bottles of maple syrup whole.

"Well if we have pancakes again, I want them to be chocolate," Alfred put in as he grabbed his third hamburger.

"That does not sound like dinner anymore," Francis chided.

Angelique gurgled and slapped her hands against the plastic tray of her highchair, annoyed that Francis was no longer giving her his undivided attention. Her frantic kicks and squeals clearly expressed her message of "I'm still here! I'm still hungry!" to them.

"You'd better get to work on feeding the baby before she cracks that highchair in half," Arthur smirked, reaching to take a sip of his drink only to stop himself when he remembered it was only water.

"Well, maybe it would help me to concentrate if you did more than just pick at your own plate," Francis returned pointedly.

Arthur sighed, poking at his half eaten hamburger and plate of chips. His mind was full of too many things to focus on eating, but he decided to just finish off the rest of his meal anyway. It wasn't worth risking a potential fight in front of the children.

He hadn't done more than finished off the rest of his burger when there came a knock at the front door. The sudden disturbance caused Pierre to erupt into a fit of vigorous tweets and Arthur briefly considered shoving the damn bird into cupboard for the rest of the night.

"I'll get it," Alfred offered automatically. Arthur didn't even have the time to register or move an inch before Alfred reach the front door, his eager cry of "Uncle Gil! Uncle Tonio!" echoing from the entryway.

"What are they doing here?" Arthur groaned, gathering his plate and making ready for his escape. A visit from Francis's friends was the last thing he needed tonight.

"It is Wednesday," Francis said simply.

Ah yes, card night. And their night to host no less. Perfect. Arthur wished that Francis would remind him of these things instead of just expecting him to remember.

"Well, well. If it isn't old Cap'n Crunch himself," Gilbert snickered as he entered the dining room. "How's life on the Good Ship _Guppy_ going Cap'n?"

"Ha-ha," Arthur droned, doing his best to clear the table as quickly as possible without making his efforts too obvious. "Very funny Gilbert. I'm sure you stayed up all night coming up with that one."

"Actually, he came up with it in the car," Antonio supplied helpfully as he sat himself down in the chair Alfred had abandoned.

"Aw, you didn't bring your chopper, Uncle Gil?" Alfred whined.

"She's in the shop kid, but I'll bring her around next time," he promised, slipping into Arthur's seat at the head of the table. Arthur gave him a very pointed stare when he reached over and grabbed a fist full of chips off of Matthew's plate before rustling the boy's hair. "How's life been treating you Wonder Twin?" he asked between mouthfuls of food.

"Um, good," Matthew whispered, his cheeks burning bright red at the attention.

"Aw, look at the baby!" Antonio cooed, his green eyes fixed on Angelique who was herself too preoccupied by the food Francis was spooning into her lips. "Ay amigo she sure is getting big."

"Not as big as Old Eyebrows here," Gilbert sniggered as he continued to pick off of Matthew's plate. "This guy used to be rail thin, now look at him. Married life sure has made you soft around the middle, huh?"

The plates had turned to dust in his hands before Arthur even realized he had been clenching down on them. Forced retirement, work and personal stress, and fifteen years of Francis's cooking (and if he were being really honest with himself, the now nightly ritual of packing away at least six lagers before bed) had resulted in Arthur's once lean form turning a bit doughy. He still had his strength -- he could easily lift the car clean over his head if he tried -- and was quite agile still, but he certainly didn't look like Captain Invincible anymore, a fact that became all the more frustrating when he looked at his present company. Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis -- Awesome Eagle, El Infierno, and Monsieur Élastique -- were all older than him and yet they looked as if they hadn't gained more than a few pounds since they'd been off the job. Arthur on the other hand had put on at least _thirty_. It didn't seem at all fair.

"Do not make fun of Arthur," Francis chimed in. "He has just learned to appreciate my cooking. After all, what man can resist fine French cuisine?"

"Or baking," Gilbert said, a wistful gleam in his eyes. "Remember the cream puffs?" 

Antonio chuckled having somehow managed to swap places with Francis so that he was now the one spoon feeding Angelique. "Or the pain au chocolat."

"Chausson aux pommes."

"Mille-feuille."

"Macaroons."

"Would you two like to stop reminiscing about my husband's _cooking_?" Arthur huffed, sweeping up the last bits of broken dishes from the floor. "This is starting to get a bit odd."

"Geez Pops, I thought you were a Superhero," Alfred said, skepticism and disappointment clear in his voice. "Didn't you do anything besides bake?"

"Alfred, cher, at that time I was unemployed, bored, and very rich," Francis explained wistfully. "If I was not fighting crime or making love, then I was cooking."

"Inappropriate," Arthur muttered, not that anyone was paying him any mind. As usual Antonio and Gilbert had swooped in and completely captured his family's attention. The house was starting to feel a bit too crowded. His eyes once again flickered to the clock and then out the window, deciding at last that it was sufficiently late enough. "I think I'm going to head out for a bit," he announced as he loaded the last dish into the dishwasher (mindful not to allow himself to as much as chip a single one).

"Now?" Francis asked, twisting around in his seat to pin Arthur with a questioning look. "But it is so late. Do you not have work tomorrow?"

"I won't be gone too long," he promised. "I just figured I'd go... hit the gym." Arthur grimaced as the words slipped out of his mouth. He had practiced that excuse since before work, but now that Gilbert had shown up... Well, Arthur just knew he had set himself up for yet another fat joke.

Sure enough, he was greeted by the sound of Gilbert's laughter the moment his unfortunately worded sentence had finished. "That sounds like a good idea, Artie. You should really work on losing that spare tire."

"Aw, don't go Dad," Alfred said. "Uncle Gil's gonna tell us some war stories."

Gilbert smirked, leaning back in Arthur's chair as a too smug air gathered around him. "Yeah and I've got a great one too. It's about the time that Iron Skillet and I took on the Atomic Emperor. Man, did that Iron Skillet have a nice-"

"Inappropriate!" Arthur snapped. 

He felt a slight twinge building behind his eyes. He wished that Francis wouldn't bring his friends over. They were such a terrible influence on the children. Although, he had to admit that it was nice some times to see the other retirees. In a small way it reminded him that there were others like him out there and that they hadn't all just disappeared into thin air. Arthur frowned, pushing that thought aside as he quickly stepped into his bedroom and picked up a duffle bag stowed away in the back of the closet before heading towards the door.

"I'll be back in an hour or two," Arthur promised, hurrying out before Francis could even reply.

\--

"I am afraid gentlemen that your drink choices for tonight are severely limited," Francis announced as he gave one last survey of the kitchen. The table had been cleared, the dishes put away, and the children were either in bed or their rooms (even little Angelique, much to Antonio's dismay) which meant that the three were able to unwind a bit more. Unfortunately it seemed that Francis had once again neglected to restock the supply of adult beverages on his last shopping trip, a fact that he knew Gilbert would not be pleased with. "Your choices are Chardonnay or one of Arthur's beers."

Sure enough, Gilbert released a long groan in response. "What does old Eyebrows drink?" he asked wearily.

"Coors," Francis sneered, glaring at the sliver can in distaste.

"I'd rather drink piss-water," Gilbert spat. "Although with that stuff, you might as well be drinking piss water. I thought you'd fixed Artie's taste buds. Why'd he start drinking the cheap stuff?"

"Because we are on a budget," Francis told him, not bothering to hold back the distasteful shuddered that coursed through his body at the very utterance of those words. Even after over a decade of living as a regular middle class member of society it was hard for him to think of himself as the type of person who had to clip coupons, reheat leftovers, and shop for sales. Twenty years ago he was the type of man who would buy things without looking at their price. He had been raised to be extravagant and, in many ways, frivolous with his spending. Not anymore. Not ever again. 

"I'll take a glass of gay fruit juice," Gilbert relented.

"I'll take a glass," Antonio piped in.

Francis shook his head as he took down three glasses and pulled out their last bottle of wine. He really needed to remember that there were actual adults floating around the house the next time he did the shopping. Then again he probably wouldn't be able to stretch it with Angelique going through a bag of diapers day, the boys being at an age where they were starting to eat twice their body weight a day (Alfred in particular), and Arthur was still carrying out his tea addiction, which they were running low on...

_What is the matter with me? Why am I still thinking like this?_

He gave his head another firm shake as he headed back into the dining room and distributed the glasses among his friends. "So Gilbert, how is your brother?"

"Married," Gilbert answered dully. There was a shimmer of bitterness in his red eyes as he watched Francis fill his glass. "Disgustingly married. Man, Ludwig and I used to be a team, equal partners in the fight against crime and all that shit. Now he spends all of his time with his wife. It's like he's forgotten all about his own brother."

"You two were partners?" Francis smirked, turning his attention over to Antonio's glass. "I always thought of you as the sidekick."

Gilbert's eyes darkened, the old wounds seeming to reopen at the mere mention of the word "sidekick." "We were a _team_ ," he stressed. "Awesome Eagle and Iron Eagle."

"Really? Because I remember his face being in the paper more often," Francis chuckled. "And he always did get top billing in the headline, he was always the ones reporters turned to for interviews and photo shoots, and let us not forget the action figures."

Gilbert's only response was to guzzle the golden contents of his wine glass as if it were grape juice. Francis smiled to himself as he pulled out a seat across from Antonio, who was currently busy shuffling the deck of cards.

"Gilbert, amigo, don't worry about your brother," Antonio assured him as he slid five cards to each of them. "Being involved with each other is what married couples do, it's natural. And it's sweet to know that they're still so affectionate after all these years. I bet he and Feli are like newlyweds, huh? So cute!"

"Sickening is more like it," Gilbert muttered, his glare now fixed on the cards grasped in his pale hands.

"Ah, it's been a while since Lovi and I have had a chance to see them," Antonio sighed wistfully into his own hand. "We've just been so busy with the new store. By the way, Francis, we're having an event at the cafe next week. Do you think you can come by and take a few pictures?"

"Well, I shall have to see if I can fit you in," Francis laughed, hoping that the sound wasn't too obviously forced. He hadn't had a client in nearly a month and was considering _not_ giving Antonio a discount. No. He couldn't do that. Lovino was too scary.

"God you guys are dull," Gilbert whined. "This is exactly why I haven't gotten married-"

"Of course it is."

"Marriage just sucks the life right out of you and turns you into an unawesome pussy," he went on. "You're whipped, Ludwig's whipped, even _Francis_ has been sucked into this whole marriage scam." A sad look crossed his face as if Gilbert were reliving some tragic event. "I _still_ can't believe it. I mean, yeah you got some awesome kids out of it, but you just had to settle down with the world's biggest stick in the mud."

Francis smiled at his friend's little tangent. He had to admit that there were times that even _he_ couldn't believe that he was living such a conventional life: married with three children, living in a house in the suburbs, and driving a minivan. It was an image that would have been enough to make the young Monsieur Élastique weep with despair, but Francis could honestly say that he loved his life. He loved the little house that he had spent years renovating and painting and decorating until every inch of it felt just right and felt just like him. He loved his children; all three of them were everything he could ask for, even though fifteen years ago the very idea of having children was enough to turn his stomach inside out. And Arthur...

And Arthur...

"Ah, Arthur is not _that bad_ ," Antonio put in helpfully, pulling out two cards before taking two more from the deck. "Besides, they make a nice couple."

Gilbert snorted, changing out only one of his cards. "Yeah, well at least I know that Francis is still his usual crazy self in the bedroom."

"Well of course," Francis laughed, giving his hair a flip just for good measure. "You know me. Arthur and I, we are like teenagers!"

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. The lack of passion that had elbowed its way into his marriage was probably the worst thing in his life. It was hard to think that they were the same pair that had come together with so much passion and fury. In the beginning, when they had both donned masks and costumes in the hopes of keeping the world safe, their nights together would be intense and desperate, knowing that every moment needed to be savored since any time could be the last time. When the world had come crashing down around them, things had slowed down, had become less frantic, but the need for support and comfort that those dark times had brought out was enough to make their attachment grow stronger.

Retirement and marriage, however, had been a cancer on their relationship and as flexible as he was, Francis soon found there were roles that even he couldn't fit into. Outside of crime fighting there were two things that Francis excelled at: cooking and love making, but those things weren't good enough for Arthur. As time dragged on, Francis started to realize to his growing horror that Arthur did not want a French lover, he wanted a wife. He wanted to come home to a warm meal, a clean house, and groomed well behaved children. Even though Francis had sworn that he would never be "Mrs. Invincible" he had tried, he truly had, to do everything in his power to give Arthur what he wanted. It only seemed fair considering that Arthur had been forced into a job he hated in order to support the family (and it had only been because Francis had been heavily pregnant at the time that he had not suffered the same fate), but even when he gave everything he had in him, Francis found that he was no good at being domestic. He could cook and he could tend to the children, but for the life of him he could not clean.

He continued to fumble with his share of responsibilities and Arthur continued to grow more and more frustrated (because if Francis could not handle the chores in his spare time, then it would mean than an already worn Arthur would have to do them himself) and it was likely that very frustration that had lead to the abrupt end of their love life. Being in a dry spell was painful for him, especially since Francis was so accustomed to having sex around the clock. It had been months since they had done anything more than fall asleep next to each other and Francis felt the lack of physical contact like fire ants crawling through his veins, but what could he do? Despite what most may assume, Francis was not one to stray when he had made a commitment and a year ago, he would have said the same about Arthur. 

Loath as he was to admit it, he could tell that Arthur's mind was wandering. Too many times Francis had caught him with a far off look in his eyes or simply sitting quietly in the little den he had created, filled from wall to wall with reminders of the past, gazing at nothing. It was a problem that he could see snowballing out of control in no time at all, but he was at a loss for how to deal with it. Tearing Arthur away from his past would feel too much like taking away another part of his husband's life, but to do nothing...

_When did I become such a coward?_ he thought miserably. _When did we stop communicating and started avoiding each other?_

"Hey Francis, are you gonna stay or what?"

He blinked, his mind slowly coming back to the present as Gilbert's voice drew him out of his musings. "What?"

"Your hand? Are you gonna stay?"

With a weary sigh, he nodded. "Oui. I will stay."


	3. Adventure Calling

It may have been mid spring, but the night still had enough bite to remind him of early winter. He shivered as he warmed his hands on the thermos filled with hot tea and turned up the volume on the radio. His chilled ears were met only with static that reminded Arthur of how incredibly pathetic this was. He had owned a police scanner before -- it had been installed by the same chaps at the Agency who had given him the Invinc-obile -- but that one had been custom made and top of the line. This hunk of metal and wires had been purchased second hand from a shady looking bloke at a local Army surplus store and was sitting on the dashboard of a car that could never even wish to be the Invinc-obile.

"What in the blazes are you doing, Artie?" he asked himself, rubbing at his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. 

Sitting there in his beaten up old sedan, he had to remind himself that this wasn't the Invinc-obile and he was not Captain Invincible, hadn't been for a long time, and that thought made him feel old. Not that he was old -- he wasn't even forty yet! -- but the heavy label of forced retirement still weighed down on him with every breath and made his joints feel stiff and feeble from lack of use. He supposed it was that very feeling that had brought him here, that drove his _need_ to be here tonight, because he wanted to show the world he still had something left to offer.

He banged on the dashboard, just hard enough to give it a good shake, in the hopes that he'd get the heater working again and instead of a blast of warmed air greeting his slightly chilled skin, his ears were met with the chattering of a human being from the other end of the police scanner.

Arthur turned it up, listening carefully as the dispatcher read off the address of a crime in progress. A bank robbery. No. A jewelry heist. And it was only a few blocks away. He could make it there before the police if he moved fast enough. 

A thrill actually coursed its way through his body as he turned the key and ignited the engine. This wasn't the first night he'd snuck out to catch a crook or two, but the excitement was pumping through his veins all the same.

Pulling out of the alley he had been parked in, his eyes caught a brief glimpse of a car that seemed to have been parked across the street at a corner store. For a moment, his mind wondered how long the other automobile had been sitting there and if the driver had actually been looking at him, but he quickly brushed those thoughts aside. He had some jewelry thieves to catch.

\--

He looked like one of the crooks.

Glancing down at his body -- clad in a black hoodie, dark gray slacks, tennis shoes, and black gloves -- Arthur was dismayed to find his current attire was far too similar to what the two perps inside the jeweler were currently sporting. A heat rose up to his cheeks, which were currently hidden underneath a cotton ski mask, at this slight foul up. Not that it could really be helped. His old costume was currently on display in his den behind three inch thick glass. Taking it out and putting it on would not only have been suspicious, and would probably have caused this situation to be even more pathetic.

He cringed as one of the men inside smashed another pane of glass. Apparently the police were intent on taking their time getting there. Not that Arthur was bothered by this. It gave him plenty of time to attempt to defuse the situation on his own.

Crouching low to the ground, he crept up to the front door that was still opened ajar, mindful not to step on any of the smashed glass littering the floor. It was nearly pitch black inside the tiny store, the only light available came from the flashlights held tightly in the hands of the two men who were too focused on their task of shoveling fists full of gold into their bags.

For a moment he wondered about these men. Who were they? Had they always been crooks or were they forced into this life due to the bad turn of the economy? What were they stealing for? For kicks or to raise money for something important? 

Arthur shook his head. These were thoughts that had never entered his mind in the old days. Clearly he had been a civilian too long.

Trapped in his musings, Arthur had not been giving enough thought to where his foot fell and soon found himself crunching down on a sizable chunk of glass. The men instantly turned towards him, dropping their bags in favor of the pistols that had been tucked under their shirts. Wonderful. He hadn't even been considering the possibility that they were armed. Now what was he supposed to tell Francis when he came home littered with bruises the size of a nickel?

Yet when the two saw him they actually lowered their weapons instead of opening fire at him, their figures relaxing visibly. "Hey you," one of the men said, his own masked face looking at Arthur with what appeared to be recognition. "You're supposed to wait in the car."

Arthur felt like smacking himself. He really did look like a crook. Well, at least it was working to his advantage. He forced himself to relax as well as he carefully approached the two men. "Well, I got sick of waiting, so I thought I'd help you load up."

The man on the left shrugged, bending over to grab one of the filled bags, but his companion's hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Wait a minute," he began slowly. "Since when are you British, Rick?"

Another misstep it seemed. Instead of mentally smacking himself, he reached out to grab the pistol of the closet thug with one hand while winding his other into a fist. A cry of "That's not Rick!" filled the air just as Arthur slammed one man square in the jaw (he'd be seeing stars for a week) before grabbing the other and tossing him into one of the display cases. Both of their weapons went clattering to the floor and Arthur was quick to grab them both and crush them in his palms.

"Sorry chaps," he said to the two men moaning in pain at his feet. "Hope I wasn't too rough on you. I'm a bit rusty you see."

It was then that the sound of heavy footsteps met his ears. His first thoughts were that the police had finally shown up, but as soon as he turned around he saw not flashing lights, but a single masked gunman at the door way. 

"Hold it right there buddy," the man cried just before pulling the trigger and firing a few shots at Arthur. Ah, this upstanding gentleman must have been Rick. 

And fortunately for Arthur, Rick was a terrible shot as most of his bullet went wide and only one managed to hit Arthur in the thigh instead of anywhere more lethal (not that it mattered). Rick didn't get to fire another shot, however, as the police decided then to make their presence known with their flashing lights and sirens. 

Limping towards the back door, Arthur decided that now would be a good time to make his way home.

\--

Arthur tried his hardest not to hiss as he entered the house from the backyard entrance. The darkened stillness of the house smothered him the second he eased himself into the cozy little kitchen, but that didn't stop the ice pack hidden within the freezer from calling his name. The pumping adrenaline had kept his injury from bothering him, but now that he was home and out of danger his leg was practically singing. Time away from the field had lessened his threshold for pain and he didn't think he'd be able to sleep tonight if he didn't at least attempt to treat himself.

He half limped, half crept his way towards the freezer, mindful of the hour and the four other occupants of the house that were no doubt already fast asleep. The door opened with a too loud pop, the soft light from within flooding the kitchen.

Oh wait, this was far too bright to just be the freezer.

Twisting around, he spotted a disheveled Francis standing by the kitchen entrance clad only in a soft blue dressing gown and the most perturbed expression he could muster. "Have fun at the gym?" he asked bitterly.

"I, uh, lost track of time," he muttered, closing the door without his prized pack of ice as he tried his hardest not to put any weight on his injured leg.

"You said 'two hours,'" Francis reminded him. "It is near midnight."

"I said I lost track of time."

"Ah, oui, because there are no clocks at the gym."

"Look, it's late and I'm tired," Arthur cut in as he attempted to walk past Francis without limping. "We can talk in the morning."

"Non," Francis said, his arms and legs spreading so wide that there was literally nowhere Arthur could move without running into him. He should have known better than to try to escape from a man who was a living rubber band. "Non, we will talk now." His frown deepened as he took in Arthur's appearance, no doubt noticing the bits of dust clinging to his pants or the heated flush to his cheeks. "Arthur, where were you?"

"It's... it's nothing."

"Nothing? You are limping. And you smell like gun smoke!" Francis's expression darkened as something seemed to click into place in his mind. "I swear to God, Arthur Kirkland, if you are having an affair-"

"Why is that the first place your mind goes to?" he yelped. What the hell sort of perversions did Francis think he was into? He sighed, forcing his way past Francis's momentarily relaxed limbs. "Look, it's nothing like that. There was a robbery-"

"A robbery?"

"I sort of got caught up in it."

"Forced yourself into it, more likely," Francis snipped.

"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur sighed, allowing himself to limp now that he had been caught in his lie. "I'm going to bed."

He had nearly made it to the door when he suddenly felt himself being restrained. Looking down at himself, Arthur saw that Francis's arms were now wrapped around his middle like fleshy ropes, firmly holding him in place. It was like one of their bedroom games gone horribly wrong. "We are going to talk about this, Arthur," Francis said sternly. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Nothing!" Arthur snapped. "Nothing. I stopped a jewelry heist. How is that a bad thing?"

"I like this house, Arthur!" 

He blinked, caught off guard by Francis's outburst. "What?"

"I like this house," he said again, unwinding his arms from around Arthur's waist and returning them to his sides. "I like this neighborhood. I like the school the children go to. Why do you want to ruin that? Why do you want to get us relocated again?"

"That wasn't my fault last time!"

"Right, putting your fist through a tree was an accident. What the hell happened, Arthur? You promised you would put me first, remember?"

"All I ever do is put _you_ first," he snapped. "You and the children. I go to that stupid job every bloody day and die inside so I can give you money to keep you happy! What's so fucking wrong about me doing _something_ to make _me_ happy just once?"

"It is wrong when you know you are putting _us_ in danger! And just because you have a job does not make you a martyr."

"At least I'm actually contributing! When was the last time you actually did anything except complain and break the appliances?"

"I do plenty around here, but you are too busy drinking yourself blind to notice! When was the last time you talked to the children? To me? You just wander in and out of the house like a zombie while I am the one who has to cook and clean and keep everyone happy. I hate it!"

"If you don't like it, you can leave!"

" _So can you_!"

Even in the midst of their screaming match, the sound of paper fluttering and a table wobbling on the other side of the room was unmistakable. From the corner of his eye, Arthur could see that Francis had caught on as well and was currently trying to force the flush of anger out of his cheeks. "Alright Alfred," Arthur sighed, "we know you're here."

"You too, Mathieu," Francis mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

There was a moment of stillness before Alfred peeked his head out from behind one end of the couch while Matthew, slowly rematerializing himself, followed suit from the other end. "You guys haven't yelled like that in a while," Alfred ventured, his voice obviously hesitant as he spoke.

"We're sorry we eavesdropped," Matthew whispered meekly.

"It's alright," Arthur sighed sheepishly. "I'm sure you would have heard us no matter where you were. Papa and I were just talking." His hand fell on to Francis's shoulder and, while he was thankful that his husband did not flinch away from his touch, he was disappointed to feel him stiffen in response. "We haven't talked in a while, but it's good that we did."

Francis didn't say a word, but he did roll his eyes and Arthur had a feeling this wouldn't be the end of their conversation. "It is late boys," Francis said, moving away from Arthur's grasp to place a tender hand on each child's cheek. "You should both go back to bed. We promise we will keep the noise down."

Alfred looked unconvinced, Matthew looked worried, but both boys nodded as they headed back down the hall, muttering quick goodnights to their fathers. Arthur frowned, slumping down into a nearby chair when the twins were well out of sight. "I, um, I think I'll spend the night out here," he suggested.

Francis nodded before turning back towards the bedroom and shutting the door.

\-- 

The next day found Arthur thankful for his set of abilities. His brand of healing may not have made him entirely immune to illness and true, his injuries would never heal instantly, but it was better than nothing. By morning the swelling on his thigh had gone down and the ugly purple bruise decorating his skin had completely disappeared. The damage done to his body was gone without a trace. The damage to his relationship with Francis, however, would not be so easily repaired.

In the early days, most of his mornings would start off in the most pleasant way imaginable: with Arthur getting a hummer from a man with an elastic mouth. This was then traded in for a tender kiss as affectionate fingers massaged his scalp. Before long it was the wail of an alarm clock greeting his ears and the aroma of a freshly made breakfast tickling his nose.

This morning started off with the electronic jingle of his phone awakening him from his place on the couch as his most-certainly-not-a-housewife husband continued to give him the cold shoulder by pointedly not making him breakfast, refusing all of his attempts to initiate conversation, and sending him out the door by tossing a grapefruit at his head.

Now as he sat at his desk, filing reports and re-evaluated claims, Arthur couldn't help but go over the events of their late night discussion in his head. It had been the first real fight they had had in sometime and while he knew that screaming matches were not something to be proud of, it was still hard to believe that they had gone without yelling themselves red for so long. 

Fighting used to be such a mundane activity for them, they'd argue and buttheads all the time and just as frequently have loud, violent make up sex afterwards. When had it all stopped? The idea that it was for the sake of the children felt flimsy at best. Arthur could still clearly recall the look on Alfred's face last night when he'd commented on the fight. Sure he had looked a bit shaken, but he'd also seemed... relieved. 

Arthur sighed, tapping away at his keyboard as text scrolled by on his monitor. This wasn't what he should be thinking about right now. It wasn't the fight that was important, but what they had fought over.

Try as he might, Arthur couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. It would have been easy to call it all a midlife crisis, but that didn't seem right. Yet there was something to be said about a man who found more enjoyment in putting his life in danger than spending time with his family.

He wondered how they all did it. How did everyone else blend in so well after they went under? Francis and his friends hardly ever spoke of their past lives and instead focused on their families, on their businesses, on... on whatever the hell Gilbert did with himself. Arthur had a house and a family and a career and yet he still couldn't put it all behind him. 

Arthur supposed it had something to do with how unremarkable his life had been before he was Captain Invincible, before he even knew that he was a Super. Back then he had just been little Arthur Kirkland, runt of the family and favorite punching bag to his older brothers. Then one day, he discovered that his once wiry frame was starting to swell as muscle began to spring up seemingly by magic. The next thing he knew he was wearing a mask and tights and using a made up name that seemed to fit him so much better than his old one had.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted when a shrill ringing filled the air of his tiny cubicle and Arthur half heartedly hoped that it was Francis calling to apologize. It was with this thought in mind that Arthur plucked the receiver off of its cradle and was rewarded by a woman's voice attempting to maintain a calm even tone as she spoke over the indignant wailing in the background. "Arthur Kirkland, Mr. Zwingli would like to see you in his office."

Arthur cringed. He did not want to deal with this. "Now?"

"Now."

\--

Zwingli's office was... fine. It was a normal office with three light gray walls -- the fourth being replaced with a massive window that over looked the financial district below them -- dark gray carpet, a standard desk framed by standard floor lamps, and a modest sized green chair. It had all the normal features of any corporate office, except for the chalkboard. 

With its wooden framing and little black wheels, the green chalkboard was the sort you would find in a typical classroom where it would be used to teach children how to count or write their letters, but this particular chalkboard was reserved only to teach employees that Zwingli had deemed incompetent and were currently on the verge of being terminated. That knowledge in mind was what caused Arthur's stomach to twist ever so slightly when he entered Zwingli's office and saw the stern faced man standing in front of it, a fresh piece of chalk gripped tightly in his hands.

"Sit down, Kirkland," he clipped and Arthur complied, because what choice did he have? He cringed as he collapsed into the metal chair in the middle of the room, the cool arms digging unpleasantly into his side and the back arching him uncomfortably. "Since you seem to have forgotten how to be a proper employee, I have decided to re-educate you on what it truly means to be part of a firm such as Insuricare."

"Mr. Zwingli," Arthur began, hoping to prolong this painful procedure if only for a moment longer. "What exactly-"

"That's enough!" Zwingli snapped, eyes flashing at him with a sort of intensity that actually made Arthur flinch before he quickly turned his attention to the board. He drew a circle -- a surprisingly smooth, even circle -- and went about adding two long lines at an odd angle into the center. "Do you know what this is?" he asked him.

"Um... a pie chart?"

"It's a clock!" he chided before turning back to the board. "A company is like a clock," he said, writing as he spoke, "and each employee is a cog within the clock. A clock can't run unless all the little pieces mess together. Do you understand what I'm saying, Kirkland?"

Arthur fidgeted in his seat as his eyes swept across the angry white scribbles decorating the board's green surface. "I'm a cog in the system?"

"You're part of a team! And you need to start acting like it."

Part of a team. Arthur smirked bitterly at the words. In his costumed heyday teamwork had never been one of his strong suits as he'd often opt to go it alone, shrugging off other Supers when they offered him their aid. His arrogance and stand offish attitude had earned him a great deal of disdain in the Super community. He still remembered quite clearly the time that Iron Eagle had bitterly called him the "captain of a one man ship."

He blinked, shaking the thought out of his mind. This wasn't what he should be focusing on. He was currently being chewed out by his supervisor, likely on the verge of being sacked, but... 

His green eyes narrowed as he watched Zwingli's animated frame scribble more words and clocks and other images onto the board. Somehow, even though he was being barked at like a brainless beast, he couldn't focus on what was being said. This had to be the most absolutely inane thing he had ever heard. What had he done wrong? He had helped people, it was what he was made to do, only he had done it in a mundane bureaucratic capacity by giving them contact numbers, faxing them paperwork, and suggesting the claims they should file. Maybe Insuricare would lose a little money (and clearly, that was the issue at hand here) but wasn't the entire purpose of an insurance company to assist its clients in their time of need?

It was no wonder that amidst all the analogies and metaphors his eyes, along with his mind, began to wander. His gaze drifted over towards the wide window, taking in the clear blue sky above the lively city. Down below them people rushed back and forth, driving hurriedly from one point to another, walking briskly along the sidewalk and...

Arthur felt his frame go ridged at the sight. It was so far away, that he was certain a normal man would never have caught it, but his sharp eyes saw the middle aged man in a blue business suit being shoved roughly into an alley by a man in a coal colored hoodie. He cringed as the man in the suit hit the gritty brick building, colliding shoulder first into the wall, only to be twisted around as a knife was shoved under his nose.

"Kirkland." Zwingli's voice cut through the air, gaining his attention, but not his gaze. His eyes were still pinned on the man who was now being tossed from the side of the building to the harsh ground below. "Kirkland are you paying attention?"

From the corner of his eyes he could see Zwingli's frown deepen (if that were at all possible) as he marched over towards him. "There's a man down there being mugged," he told him, sparing his indignant employer only the briefest glance before turning his eyes back to the alleyway where the man had now been shoved into a dumpster, the mugger offering him a few good kicks square to the chest. It was a sickening sight to watch made all the more revolting by the fact that he was doing absolutely nothing to stop it. Captain Invincible would have been there by now, would have climbed out the window and sprinted the few blocks to apprehend the man, but Arthur Kirkland could only sit and stare.

Zwingli turned towards the window, scanning the streets for any evidence of Arthur's story being true. For a moment Arthur thought he wouldn't see it, but he noticed the way his supervisor's eyes momentarily locked on to the scene, before marching towards the window. "That's not important right now," he informed him, literally closing the curtains on the scene, but Arthur was able to see just enough to know that the mugger had actually gotten away. "It's your job that's on the line, and you're going to sit here and listen."

For a moment his heart sank, but it was only a moment, because suddenly it was pounding inside him, slamming in his chest with a churning fury he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. His hands curled into fists, crumbling the arms of the metal chair like a wad of paper under his coiled fingers. There was hatred burning inside of him, pulsing its way through his blood, wild and erratic and unfocused, because there were so many things -- his life, his weakness, that damn hooded bastard -- that he wanted to pour it all out on, but couldn't because they were too abstract or too far away. So instead, he chose the man in front of him.

\--

"Do you think they're gonna be okay?"

Alfred's only reply was a distracted "Huh?" muffled by the mouthful of chewed sandwich he was in the middle of swallowing. Matthew wasn't really surprised that Alfred wasn't paying attention to him, he wouldn't have been surprised if his twin had even forgotten all about his presence in the time since they had sat down to eat their lunch. 

The cafeteria was already quite crowded as students, and a few teachers, milled in and out, weaving between tables and benches, to gather their meals and find a good place to sit. In all the confusion of the lunch hour, hiding in plain sight was the best way to avoid those annoying classmates who always wanted to steal his homework from him. Being next to Alfred was an added bit of insurance as well since, for some reason, nobody ever picked on Alfred. Matthew supposed it was just one of the many benefits of being the more outgoing twin.

"Dad and Papa," Matthew clarified at last, tearing away at pieces of the sandwich that his blue eyes were currently fixed on. "Do you think they're gonna be okay?"

"They'll be fine," Alfred shrugged indifferently as he turned his attention back to his already half finished sandwich and swallowed the rest. "They fight all the time."

No they didn't. They hadn't fought in years, and certainly not like that. Matthew knew it was weird for a kid to actually want his parents to scream at each other, but he had learned a long time ago that shouting matches and hissy fits were just Dad and Papa's way of communicating, and Alfred knew that. Alfred knew that better than anyone, but he was just being his usually oblivious self and it made Matthew feel all knotted up inside.

"What if they get a divorce?" Matthew whispered, voicing the thought that had been swirling around inside his mind for longer than he'd like to admit. It was a very real possibility in Matthew's mind. After all, most of his classmates had parents who were either separated or separating. Parents just didn't seem capable of staying together anymore and what made theirs any different? Other than the super powers, of course.

"Mattie, you worry too much," Alfred snorted. "They're not gonna get divorced. Our dads are way too old and boring to be single again."

There was that word again. "Boring." It frustrated Matthew to no end how Alfred always seemed more concerned about how "uncool" their parents were instead of the more obvious problems that the two had. As much as Matthew loved his brother, there were times he wished that Alfred would just grow up.

Not that Matthew was completely above the occasional childish impulse. He watched as Alfred raised his hand, reaching his fingers towards the bag of potato chips spilling out across the table only to have them blocked when Matthew created a small bubble around his desired target. "Hey!" Alfred whined, glaring bitterly over at his brother. "No powers in public, remember?"

Matthew huffed, pretending to turn his attention back to his own lunch, only to send another force field around Alfred's food when his twin attempted to grab his sandwich. Alfred responded by giving his brother's leg a kick so swift that Matthew felt it before he could process seeing his sibling move. 

It was just another normal lunch.

\--

Roderich Edelstein looked perturbed. Yet to be fair, in the two decades that he had known him, Arthur couldn't recall the man _not_ looking perturbed. Not that Arthur could fault him for that today. Not when he was walking out of the hospital room that Arthur had just put his supervisor into after a moment of careless, unchecked rage. 

It had felt so good then, so right -- after all what man wouldn't want to punch his boss square in the jaw -- but that feeling had disappeared the second he came out of his cloud of rage and took in what he had done. Three solid walls. With one good hit he had sent Zwingli sailing through three solid walls and crashing into a stack of filing cabinets. He cringed at the thought, because even if the Swiss man was a jerk he certainly didn't deserve the crippling pain and months of physical therapy that he would have to endure.

"What am I going to do with you?" he heard Roderich sigh as he quickly stepped past him and down the hall. "You are unbelievable!"

"I'm fired aren't I?" Arthur asked pathetically, because that was all he could think about. He had not only blown their cover, but he lost the job that his family desperately needed to stay afloat. 

Roderich huffed, continuing his march towards the elevators and never once breaking his stride. "That's the least of your troubles," he clipped in a tone that sounded annoyingly similar to one that Zwingli would use. "Do you have any idea how much paper work this is going to cause? How much money will be wasted?"

"I know."

"There were witnesses, Arthur," he went on. "Dozens of them! And they'll all have to have their memories erased and the company will need to be paid off to keep silent and the damages to the building that will need to be covered and then there's the relocation to consider."

Arthur flinched at that last one. Relocation? He couldn't do that to Francis and the children, not again, not after they were all settled in here. "I'm sorry," he whispered and his stomach twisted just a bit at the ping that word caused. 

Roderich must have noticed the way his shoulder slumped and the pathetic self loathing expression etched onto his features, because suddenly the man's eyes softened as he placed an awkwardly friendly hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I would normally say you are on your own now," he began haltingly, "but under the circumstances..."

He didn't know what circumstances Roderich was referring to, but he supposed it was their history. Roderich wasn't just his case worker, he had been his Agency liaison since Arthur was just a dumb college kid doing Superhero work for the glory and the ego inflation. When the world had decided it didn't want them around, Roderich had gone out of his way to make sure that he and Francis wouldn't be separated after going under. He'd even been the one to get Arthur his job at Insuricare. Arthur had seen many faces in the Agency change over the years, but Roderich was the only constant. Not that Arthur thought he had anything to do with it. No, Roderich's wife having been Iron Skillet had everything to do with his sympathies towards him and other Supers.

"Thank you," he said morosely.

"I suppose could relocate you, one last time," he began, but Arthur was quick to cut him off.

"No, I can't," Arthur sighed. "We... we're all got settled in here and..."

Roderich nodded before pressing the down button on the elevator. The doors opened with a soft ding. "Take care," he said before stepping into the elevator and disappearing behind the metal doors.

\--

Coming home had never been so difficult, but as he sat in his car, parked in the driveway thinking over the events of the day, the task of setting foot inside seemed like an impossible feat. How was he supposed to tell Francis that he had been fired? They had barely been scrapping by as it was with the money he brought in and with Francis's "home business" being so painfully inconsistent, it would be impossible to stay afloat with what little income that venture would bring in.

Arthur sighed, grabbing his briefcase from the side seat and reluctantly stepping out of his pathetic, rust bucket of a car. It would have felt nice to grab the heap of metal and crush it to scraps in his hand, but Arthur had to remind himself that he had gotten into this spot by doing what felt good.

He needed a beer. He needed a hundred beers. Too bad he wouldn't be able to afford even one can from now on.

He dragged himself towards the front door, feeling more miserable with each step, before jamming his key into the slot and twisting the knob. Once again he was greeted with the usual sights and sounds that his arrival would bring. Pierre was twittering away in his little cage while the rest of the house lay still and deserted. Not a soul in sight.

"Hi Dad."

Arthur flinched, looking down at the floating pile of clothes in front of him and realizing that Matthew had been there the whole time. He quickly closed the door behind him as the boy willed himself into visibility once more. "Hello Matthew," he greeted, trying his best to keep his tone natural and even as he offered the boy a half hearted pat on the head. "Is anyone else home?"

"Alfred's in his room," Matthew informed him, "and Papa took Angelique and went to the store to pick up a few things for dinner."

On a normal day Arthur would have been annoyed to find that Francis had left the boys home alone, but there were bigger issues weighing down on him at the moment and the mere mention of Angelique's name was enough to cause a new flood of concerns to wash over him. (If the adoption agency ever found out about this, they'd lose her for sure.) With that dark thought in mind, he was only able to muster a distracted nod as he trudged towards his den. 

He flicked a light switch on, illuminating the small room decorated with newspaper clippings, photographs, and other souvenirs from another life. His eye caught the glass case holding his old uniform in the corner and his heart sank just a bit more at the memory of what life had been like as a stupid, carefree kid.

Arthur frowned as he closed the door, locked it and then grabbed the waste bin tucked under his desk as he went about emptying his briefcase. He smashed a few things just to make himself feel better -- ripped the near phonebook sized Insuricare handbook clean in half, crumpled his pocket calculator like tissue -- but after a while he just started to feel childish so he simply tipped the whole thing over and into the bin. A metallic ping greeted his ears in the process and for a moment Arthur felt certain that it was only a pen that had been dropped into the basket. On closer inspection, however, he found something flat and firm sticking out of the heap of trash and his interest was suddenly peaked.

His scowl deepened as he plucked the thing out of the waste bin and inspected it carefully. At first glance it looked like one of those tablet computers that one saw in stores, but Arthur would certainly recall owning something like that and this _thing_ wasn't at all familiar to him. It was lighter than a tablet should be and thinner, nearly paper light, and the logo on the bottom...

" _Voice key, activated,_ " a mechanical voice droned, the sound seemingly coming from the flat sheet in his hand.

"Voice key?" he repeated, only to be greeted by a little red light blinking up at him from the bottom of the tab.

" _Identity confirmed,_ " the voice hummed as the little red light suddenly expanded, flooding his vision and causing Arthur to drop the little computer in shock. He blinked a few times, trying to erase the glare of the light from his eyes, as the red light swept across the small room. " _Location is secure_."

Arthur's head was swimming as he bent down to retrieve the device only to find a picture emerge on its once blank surface. A young man with shoulder length brown hair was looking up at him with an uncertain smile and soft blue eyes and suddenly this was all a bit much. " _Greetings, Captain Invincible_ ," the image, video, began. " _Yes, I know who you are. My name is Toris Laurinaitis and I am contacting you on behalf of a private firm in need of your particular skills._ "

Arthur titled the flat computer this way and that, turning it over in his hand in an attempt to find a speaker or off button, but there was none. He gave the screen a quick tap, but no other display emerged itself. It seemed as if this device was made solely for the purpose of relaying this message and nothing else.

" _I work for an international corporation that specializes in manufacturing weapons for government agencies,_ " Laurinaitis went on. " _The information that I am about to relay to you is classified, so I suggestion you listen carefully as it will not be repeated._ " Arthur quickly scanned the room, searching for a pen and a pad of paper to write on, only to discover that nearly every pen he grabbed was out of ink. 

" _Recently one of our latest projects, the Omindroid, has gone awry on our private testing facility, causing considerable property damage and endangering the lives of our workers._ " 

Arthur huffed in frustration, tossing pen after pen aside before finally coming across a pencil with a sharpened tip and a blank piece of notebook paper to jot information down on. 

" _My employer has requested that I contact you in order to help suppress the Omindroid and neutralize the situation. If you choose to accept this assignment a private plane will meet you at the airport to take you to our headquarters. You will be compensated, of course, with payment five times that of your annual salary._ "

He was ashamed to admit that his heart actually stopped dead in his chest and his stomach managed a little flip at this statement. This was all too good to be true... so there must be some sort of catch.

" _You will have twenty-four hours to respond. I will be awaiting your call._ " With those final words, the screen went blank and Laurinaitis's face was gone.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in the information. Suddenly it was hard to think, impossible to stand, and he felt himself collapsing into the waiting arms of his beaten up old office chair. A small part of him was whispering to Arthur that this was all a scam, because mysterious organizations didn't just randomly contact retired Supers out of the blue and offer them large sums of money. This cryptic message was drenched in danger and the fact of the matter was that he didn't even really know what he was going up against.

Yet all the same, his heart was thrumming with excitement. The old blue and red suit that he hadn't put on in over a decade was staring at him from behind the glass, whispering Arthur's name and telling him that adventure was calling at long last. How could he pass up an opportunity to be Captain Invincible again, to be himself again?

A small beep pierced the air and pulled Arthur out of his musings. He turned towards the computer and watched as a small business card slid out from a previously unseen slot at the bottom of the tablet. Inscribed on the card's smooth white surface were Toris Laurinaitis's name and a number to contact him. Against his better judgment he decided to take the card and slip it into his pocket.

The small red light at the base of the tablet came to life once more as the automated voice chimed in. " _This message will self destruct._ "

The computer exploded into a mess of charred plastic and singed chips before Arthur could even think to respond. Thick black smoke filled the tiny room, burning Arthur's lungs and making him wish that his den had at least one window. Left with no other options, Arthur quickly slipped the door open, allowing the burnt air to escape out of the cramped den and into the hallway where it almost instantly set off the smoke alarm.

Arthur barely heard Matthew's cry of "What's that smell?" over the fit of coughs erupting from his own burning throat and the way that Pierre was twittering up a storm over in the living room.

"The house is on fire!" Alfred practically screamed from somewhere out of sight. "Dad must be cooking again!"

The front door swung open at that moment and Francis's indignant scream of "Arthur!" managed to cut through the panicked cries of the children and the piercing wail of the smoke alarm.

\--

Arthur shut the window, because after two hours of having every door and window in the house open to clear out the smell, he felt certain that all traces of smoke were now gone. He heard two other windows close from somewhere behind him, before feeling a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Arthur turned his head just in time for Francis to kiss him, his husband's lips falling somewhere between his mouth and his cheek, before he pulled away to give him a tired look.

"I am not sorry about what I said last night," Francis told him, handing Arthur a beer as some sort of peace offering, "but I'm sorry about the way I said it."

He accepted the offered bottle, its cool glass surface a reminder of just how horrible he had felt a few hours ago. Now he was just confused. "I, uh, I'm sorry too," he returned, not bothering to look at Francis or twist the cap off of his bottle. Instead, he merely fixed his gaze out the window. "I didn't mean what I said, about you leaving and all."

"I do not want to leave," Francis assured him, emphasizing his point by wrapping his arms around Arthur and holding him close. "And I do appreciate everything you do. I know how much you hate your job, but you keep at it just to support us. It is wonderful and... and I think it is time that I started making sacrifices too."

Arthur frowned, pulling away from Francis and meeting his gaze for the first time that night. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I will not buy a new vacuum," he sighed. "I will ask Gilbert to look at the old one and see what he can do. And... and starting tomorrow I will look for a real job."

The ball of guilt that welled up inside of him was so painful that Arthur actually felt himself wince from its sting. He felt like an absolute heel at Francis's words, because he could tell just from the defeated look in his eyes and the weak tone of voice that this was the last thing he wanted. "Francis, you can't quit now. Wedding season's coming up soon. I'm sure you'll get plenty of clients then."

A look of remorse flashed over Francis's face at Arthur's poorly chosen words. He should have known better than to mention weddings to Francis. Even if newlywed couples made up the majority of his clients, Francis had always detested shooting weddings. Arthur knew it had everything to do with their own lack luster nuptials that had taken place inside of a courtroom with just the two of them instead of the intimate ceremony that Francis had aspired to have.

"Yes, I know, but we need the money now," Francis said weakly. "Photography is a nice hobby, but... but it is just a hobby."

Arthur felt his heart sink just a little at Francis's words. He couldn't do this to him. He couldn't force Francis into a menial job that he would come to loath just so that they could have a few extra dollars in the bank. 

He suppressed a groan at the stray thought. A few extra dollars? There wouldn't be a few extra dollars now that Arthur was unemployed. Having Francis look for full time work was the smart thing to do given their current situation, but as far as Arthur was concerned it wasn't the right thing to do, not when there was another option.

"Francis," he began, his eyes drifting downward as he spoke. "I... about work. Well, I'm going to be going out of town for a while."

"Out of town?" Francis repeated, intrigued.

"Yeah. They're sending me to a conference."

"A conference? That has never happened before." Arthur's heart stilled in his chest, certain that he had once again been caught in a lie, but instead found himself wrapped in another tight embrace. "This good, isn't it? They are probably going to promote you! I knew that if you just stuck with it, something good would happen."

Arthur nodded, returning the embrace and promising himself that he would look for a real job after he came back from this assignment.


	4. The Ominidroid

His suit didn't fit.

Of all the embarrassing things he had found himself subjected to sitting in what had to be the most advanced plane he had ever laid eyes on and soaring hundreds of miles in the air towards a small island in the Pacific while wearing his flashy, ill fitting old suit was easily the most humiliating moment of his life. He shifted in his seat, listening with grated nerves to the distinct sound of fabric stretching and threatening to tear. His scowl deepened as he glared down at his stomach -- blue and red cloth stretched nearly thin enough to expose a few inches of skin, a slight roll of flesh flopping over the bright yellow utility belt that had barely managed to clip shut. Clearly he had gained more weight than he had imagined during his years of retirement. 

Arthur stifled a groan.

No. Not Arthur, not today. Running his gloved fingers over the shiny black material covering his more than half of his face, he reminded himself that he was Captain Invincible once more.

_Invincible,_ he thought to himself. _I. Am. Invincible._

The clean, white door to his cabin slid open and Toris Laurinaitis walked in. Laurinaitis was young man, of average height and modest build. Invincible was tempted to call the man "handsome," but the mere thought of the word was enough to make his stomach tighten and the golden band on his finger (hidden underneath his blue glove) feel hot and heavy. 

Laurinaitis offered him a nervous smile as he hesitantly entered the cabin and approached Invincible. He couldn't fault Laurinaitis for feeling a bit intimidated by his presence. After all, Laurinaitis was fairly young and had likely only been a child when the Supers had been forced into retirement, meaning that he was old enough to remember, but young enough not to be jaded by the sight of people like him.

"Are you enjoying your flight, Captain Invincible?" Laurinaitis asked him conversationally-.

Arthur tried to smile at him, but the gesture was a bit difficult as he had become quite accustomed to scowling lately, so what he offered the man was little more than a smirk at best. "I am," he assured him as he motioned approvingly at his surroundings. Everywhere he looked was clean and smooth and white. It all had a very minimalist feel, yet the sleek design gave off a sense that the private jet and everything in it was top of the line. "It's a lovely aircraft you have here. Did your company make it?"

"Well, yes," Laurinaitis said. "It's one of our newer models. Not on the market yet." There was something unreadable that flashed across Laurinaitis's features -- a look of weariness, of remorse, perhaps even confusion, he couldn't tell -- as the man shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I think it's time that I brief you on your assignment," he said, changing the subject and relaxing somewhat in doing so. "Would you like something to drink first?"

_A beer would be lovely,_ he thought, but dismissed the notion instantly. Invincible never drank on the job in the old days and it wouldn't be wise to do so now when he was older and out of practice. What's more, he didn't need this young man to think that he was some sort of washed up old drunk and report it back to his employers. "I'd rather get down to business," he said seriously. "Better to be prepared than go in half cocked and get myself killed."

Laurinaitis nodded as he touched something along the side of the cabin -- an unmarked panel that Invincible hadn't looked twice at -- that resulted in a small bit of the floor to slide open as a smooth circular machine emerged to greet them as the lights in the cabin began to dim. Once the machine reached its maximum height  which was only a foot or two off the ground -- the red light on its base began to flash, followed by a clear blue image that filled the space between the round device and the ceiling. 

"This is the Omnidroid 9000," Laurinaitis began, motioning to projected image. Invincible frowned, squinting his eyes and leaning forward to get a good look at his soon to be opponent. From what he could tell, this 'Omnidroid' was little more than a giant round mass of metal. Its body looked quite sturdy and was balanced by four tentacle like legs slithering out underneath. Each leg seemed to be equipped with claws that were reminiscent of talons and Invincible felt certain that would be a problem. He took in the large scope mounted on the top of the robot's smooth body, wondering if that could be a potential weakness. "The Omnidroid is a top secret prototype battle robot. Its artificial intelligence enables it to solve any problem it's confronted with and... unfortunately..."

"Let me guess," Invincible cut in, because he had experienced situations like this before. Nearly every Super had. "It got smart enough to wonder why it had to take orders."

"We lost control," Laurinaitis confirmed sheepishly. "Now it's loose in the jungle wrecking havoc on the facility. We've had to evacuate all personnel for their own safety."

No bystanders? That was convenient. At least he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally injuring someone while dismantling this thing. "How am I going in?" he asked.

Laurinaitis pressed another point along the panel and suddenly the projection changed, shifting into what appeared to be a three dimensional illustration of their jet passing over a small island. "The Omnidroid's defenses require an air drop from five thousand feet." Invincible watched as a small, round object dropped from the aircraft and towards the island. Just as soon as the object landed, the imagery changed and the projection of the small island expanded. "It's cloaking devices make it difficult to track, but we're pretty sure it's on the southern half of the island." The southern tip was highlighted then, flashing in front of his eyes pointedly. "One more thing," Laurinaitis added quickly, looking even more sheepish than he had before. "Obviously this prototype represents a significant investment to the company, so..."

"You want me to shut it down without completely destroying it," he finished knowingly.

The young man chuckled nervously, another hesitant smile pulling at his lips and Invincible had to wonder how a man so easily intimidated had gained such a position at a weapons manufacturing company. "You are Captain Invincible," he said, sounding very reassured as he pressed another button, ending the projection's little show and bringing the small space into its full light once again. "Come with me," he instructed, motioning for Invincible to follow him to the tail end of the jet.

Invincible did so, getting up from the suede seats and marching into a darkened room with high tech equipment and several men in strange gray and black grab with masks and visors obscuring their faces and a sharp red R decorating the center of their chests milling around. The sight of the men made a thrill run through him. It was such a strangely familiar image, yet one he had not experienced in years. All the same, there was something off about these men. The way they stared blankly at him, taking him in and sizing him up, before going about their business as if he weren't even there seemed a bit off putting. What's more, Laurinaitis seemed to shrink away from them, as if he were not in charge of them or even a part of the same group. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew exactly why this scenario bothered him, but at the moment he was too busy focusing on the strange pod that Laurinaitis was currently motioning for him to get into. Wonderful. He was going to crash into the ground five thousand feet below in a giant eight ball.

"One more thing," Laurinaitis began, interrupting Invincible as he strapped himself to the seat of his ejection pod. "The Omnidroid is a learning computer. Every second you spend fighting it, it comes up with more ways to defeat you."

"Shut it down, don't destroy it, do it quickly," Invincible droned as he fumbled with the straps meant to secure him to his seat.

"And don't die," Laurinaitis added, nothing short of sincerity in his tone and demeanor.

Invincible nodded, because he wasn't exactly planning on kicking the bucket when he still had a husband and three children to take care of.

\--

Captain Invincible had never been so hot in his entire life. As Arthur Kirkland he had spent the first few years of his life in England, before moving to the states in his teens. As Captain Invincible he had traveled around quite often, but only now did he realize that never before had he ventured into a tropical climate. That would explain why the humid conditions of the Pacific island were having such an effect on him. 

Or maybe it was the twenty or thirty pounds he had gained over the years that was causing his chest to burn, his legs to ache, and his teeth to sweat. Dear God he hated himself (and Francis) for letting his body get this out of shape. He remembered being able to sprint for hours on end without feeling winded. Today, he had stepped out of his ejection pod, jogged around the southern end of the island in search of Omnidroid and almost instantly started to pant. Two hours of running in what seemed like a giant circle later and he felt dead. He swore silently that as soon as he returned home he would lose his beer belly even if it killed him.

Invincible groaned as he wiped the sweat from his masked brow as his red boots stumbled over a mass of thick roots. The dense jungle with its leafy trees, low branches, and thick bushes occupying nearly every inch of ground was more than a bit disorientating. Everywhere he turned looked positively identical from the last and suddenly Invincible felt certain that he was lost. What he wouldn't give to have a watch or a compass on hand...

Actually, now that he thought about it, Invincible did recall having a compass on his utility belt. 

As he reached down to grab the bright yellow belt wrapped snuggly around his waist, Invincible felt himself stumble, this time not over a root, but a dip in the ground. Glancing beneath him, Invincible's eyes landed on what seemed to be a large, neat X shape imprinted into the soft earth below his feet. He frowned, taking a step back in order to get a good look at the markings only to brush up against a tree. When he turned to glare at the offending hunk of wood, he notices sharp, blade like marking that ran deep into the bark.

Mere seconds after he began to process the sight, the ground beneath him shook and two tall stalks of trees were ripped apart by twin black, mechanical arms. There stood the Omnidroid, towering high above him like a mechanical bolder ready to crush every bone in his body into jelly.

Invincible was almost too stunned by the shear magnitude of the thick Omnidroid's metal structure to avoid the metal limbs as they came crashing into the ground in an attempt to run him through. He dodged just in time, but not quickly enough to avoid the next attack which earned him a clean tear in his suit and a deep cut into his shoulder. The injury was a clear reminder that he needed to stay alert, because this wasn't just an exercise, it was very real. 

The next time the Omnidroid's limbs came swinging at him, Invincible was able to not only dodge them, but jump clear over the robot and onto the other side of it. Before the scope mounted onto its top half could swing towards him, Invincible swung his fist, punching the thick metal with all of his might. The Omnidroid wobbled, its tentacle like legs thrown off balance for a moment, but it recovered far too quickly for Invincible's liking. 

It began to charge at him then, moving with more speed than something so massive had any right to possess. Invincible attempted to jump over it again in hopes of avoiding being crushed under its weight, but just as Laurinaitis had warned, the machine seemed to have learned what to expect and swatted at him while he was still midair. The metal limb slammed into his side, sending him whizzing towards the ground where he landed with a thud. He quickly pushed aside the daze that wanted dearly to settle onto his mind as he lifted himself off of the ground. When he was on his feet again, he looked up to see that the Omnidroid had retracted its limbs and scope and was currently hurdling itself towards him like a giant bowling ball.

Invincible scrambled to his feet, running quite literally for dear life, all thoughts of fatigue and injury fleeing from his mind as he jumped over roots and dodge low branches, all the while listening to the crashing, crushing, thumps of the Omnidroid flattening everything in its path. For a moment, Invincible felt certain that the Omnidroid would catch up with him and turn him into a human pancake, but his salvation came in, of all things, the form of a cliff. 

He dove off, jumping off of the ledge and out of the Omnidroid's path. The ledge wasn't a clean downward peak. It sloped roughly to the ground and Invincible found that he had no choice but to follow the path. He wasn't at all surprised when he heard the distinct sounds of rock being crushed and jumbled about that alerted him to the Omnidroid's presence. It was a machine and therefore it was naturally persistent, but that meant that Invincible would have to think quickly in order to beat it.

As soon as he reached somewhat level ground, he made to grab at the largest hunk of rock he could find. The Omnidroid landed seconds later, extending its arms and scope, and instantly made to charge at him. Invincible threw the bolder at the machine's scope, only to be disheartened when he found that it had no effect. If anything, it only served to teach the Omnidroid a new trick: throwing rocks. It sat perched in one spot and began hurling boulders at him with mechanical tenacity, throwing each and every rock that its metal claws could clasp as Invincible did his best to duck and weave away from the stones and its debris. Eventually the robot cornered him, and tried to pin him down, literally, with one of its sharp claws. Invincible managed to avoid being run through once more, but soon found himself being swatted by yet another mechanical limb and tumbling over the ledge and into a pit underneath the rocky cavern.

Invincible blinked away the dizzy feeling in his head and looked up to discover that he was now underground and surrounded by what looked like magma. Apparently the mountain on the island was volcanic. Wonderful. If he had been sweltering before, he was boiling now. Not that heat was the worst of his troubles. Before Invincible could even make it back to his feet, he found the ground shaking again. Looking behind him, he found that the Omnidroid had found his accidental hiding spot and was just as eager to fight as it had been a few seconds ago. He now found himself trapped on a small patch of rocky ground with a killer robot in front of him and boiling hot magma behind him.

He charged towards the Omnidroid, hoping that he would be able to dodge any blow it aimed at him and slip between its limbs, but no such luck. It lifted a limb towards him, large claws pushing him back towards the magma. Invincible pushed back, in an attempt to overpower the machine, but he found that his strength was only enough to slow it slightly. He groaned, the muscles in his arms and legs screaming from the effort to keep himself from being melted, but it wasn't enough as he inched closer and closer to the thick red goo that would burn even his near invulnerable skin on contact. 

Summoning up all of the strength within him, Invincible tightened his grip on the metal claws and swung the Omnidroid towards the magma behind him. He was nearly shocked when he saw the giant black ball of metal soar into the air before seeping into the waiting magma.

Invincible allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Even after all these years of retirement, it seemed that he was still able to hold his own in a fight. A sense of pride swelled up inside of him at that thought as he smirked down into the bubbling lava below him.

The euphoric feelings instantly evaporated as the ground began to rumble behind him. Spinning around he watched in horror as the Omnidroid came crashing in from _below_ ground, its black surface now burning red as it pinned its mechanical eye on Invincible's stunned body.

_Well fuck me._

The thought barely settled into his mind as the Omnidroid lifted its bright, burning red claws towards him, spinning them like a buzz saw ready to slice into an unsuspecting piece of wood. Invincible dove out of the way, only to have his legs seized by one of the burning hot claws which proceeded to drag him into the air. Another claw grabbed his arms and the two mechanical limbs began pulling him in opposite directions. Feeling every muscle and joint in his body being slowly pulled apart, another thought entered his mind:

_I'm not going to die like_ this _!_

Body thrumming with the renewed surge of energy, Invincible used what strength still remained in his arms to grab at the Omnidroid's claw and pull. To his surprise, the metal gave away almost instantly, sparks flying as wires snapped apart and metal tore like paper. There was an almost comical moment where the Omnidroid merely looked at its now damaged limb as if shocked, but Invincible was too busy running on pure adrenaline to find any amusement in his current situation. While the machine was temporarily distracted, he hid underneath it where its scope could not find him. To his surprise, a lower camera emerged just above his head and he wasted no time in grabbing it and tearing it off. The resulting hole was just large enough for him to crawl into, and nestled safely inside the machine he waited for the computer to literally tear into itself in an attempt to retrieve him. In a matter of moments the Omnidroid had drilled enough holes into its own body to resemble Swish cheese and the machine was finally offline.

\--

Toris felt his eyes widen as he watched the image of Captain Invincible saunter away from the now fully defunct Omnidroid 9000. What he had witnessed was nothing short of incredible. In all his years he had never seen someone go through the trial so quickly, or so creatively. Hiding _inside_ the robot? Quite innovative. He couldn't resist the urge to tap the screen and zoom in on the robot's prone form, taking in the gaping holes and sparks of electricity. There was no doubt that it was finished.

He had to wonder, however, what happened now. When he had found Invincible, he knew instantly that this was the Super his employer wanted, that this particular man was the one he had been searching for. So what would they do now that he had him in their clutches?

A large hand clamped down on his shoulder and he couldn't help but shudder at the contact. "Very good," his boss said, his voice far too chipper for a man who had just witnessed his prized weapon being torn to shreds. "We must bring him in again. Sound the all clear."

Toris nodded, understanding perfectly that nothing had changed. This event with Invincible only meant that his boss would get to have a little bit of fun before going through with the rest of his plans.

The strong fingers that had gripped his shoulder slowly slipped away, their heavy presence lingering even after they were gone and once again Toris felt a familiar knot of guilt twist into the pit of his stomach.

\--

Invincible frowned as he brushed off more dirt and gravel from his thoroughly beaten up suit and silently chastised himself for not bringing something else to wear. It just didn't seem right to meet with an employer at the end of the job covered in blood and still caked in dirt and sweat. 

He shook his head at the thought as a rueful smile spread across his tired features. He was starting to think like Francis.

His red boots echoed against the clean tiled floor, no doubt leaving a trail of dirt and grime in his path, as he headed towards the private office where he had been told to meet with Toris and the head of this operation to secure his payment. Invincible was quite eager to meet the man behind this ordeal, but more so, he was eager to go home. 

It had only been a little over two days since he had packed his bags and left for this mission (the ache of the lie he had told his family to get here still sitting heavily on his shoulders), but it felt more like two years. It had never been like this in the old days. Sure he would get tired and weary during an assignment, would occasional gripe and whine that he had better things to do, but those better things usually revolved around writing papers and attending lectures not helping two rambunctious tweens with their school work, giving a fussy baby a bath, or loosing himself in the embrace of a good man. Things had been so much simpler in the old days, but he had a feeling that coming home tomorrow would feel far sweeter than it ever had then.

Invincible came to a gradual halt as he reached his destination and began to ease himself inside. Only he stopped when he saw that the room was empty. Invincible frowned, checking his wrist on pure habit to see the time, only to find that he was not wearing a watch. Looking up he watched as one of the far walls slipped open and Laurinaitis stepped out. His frown deepened as he took a step back and gently easing the door in front of him closed, hoping that Laurinaitis didn't see him.

He didn't. It appeared that the young man was too distracted by the person waiting in the shadows of the room he had exited from. Invincible watched from the crack in the door as Laurinaitis twisted around to listen to a large shadowy figure whispering something to him. Laurinaitis gave a reluctant nod as the figure stepped back and the wall slipped shut once more. Invincible was quick to shut the door in front of him, and back track down the hall. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be meeting with the head of the company this evening.

Invincible waited in the hall, counted to ten, and then proceeded to walk back towards the meeting room. He re-entered, not at all surprised when Laurinaitis looked up at him with his usual pleasant, yet nervous smile, a clear sign that he had not noticed him before.

"Ah, Captain Invincible," Laurinaitis greeted. "You're looking well... considering. Did you have trouble finding your way around the facility?"

Invincible shook his head. He hadn't had any trouble as much of the staff was quite friendly and helpful when he had asked them for assistance. Yet they all seemed to give him that same sense of unease that he had received from the men on the jet and the fact that the workers of the facility were all dressed in a similar fashion did not add any comfort whatsoever. "None actually. I think it would be rather difficult to get lost around here."

Laurinaitis chuckled politely at the joke as he pulled out a silver pen and a stack of papers and laid them out on top of a desk in front of him. "Well, it seems that we've reached the boring part of our arrangement," he joked. "I hope you don't mind a bit of paper work."

"Not at all," he lied. Invincible walked over to the desk -- glancing quickly at the far corner of the room where the walls had split open and making a note of its location -- and glanced down at the stack of papers wearily. "So I take it my host won't be meeting with me this evening?"

"I'm afraid not," Laurinaitis said apologetically as he offered Invincible his pen. "He hopes you'll understand."

Invincible nodded, taking the pen in hand and fumbling with it. "I do usually make it a point to know who I'm working for," he said pointedly.

His comment was enough to make Laurinaitis shift from one foot to the other, but that was no feat. Laurinaitis always seemed to be nervous. "He prefers a level of anonymity," he explains. "Surely someone like you would understand that."

He hummed in defeat, realizing that he wouldn't be getting much more out of Laurinaitis. He may have been a jittery fellow, but he was remarkably tight lipped. He thumbed through the paper work then and found among the lengthy legal gibberish his payment. The pen fell, crashing to the ground from between numb fingers as his eyes ran over the number printed out before him. In his day, being paid for Super work was viewed as unseemly. The act of saving citizens from evil was supposed to be an honor and a duty inherent in all of their kind. Of course, Invincible (or rather, Arthur) was in a tight spot and in need of money, but he hadn't expected to receive this much. When Laurinaitis had said the amount would be five times his annual salary he had been mistaken. Invincible couldn't imagine making this much in _ten_ years of working at Insuricare.

"Is something the matter, Captain Invincible?" Laurinaitis asked, concern lacing his words. "Anything out of order?"

"No," Invincible said quickly, scrambling for the pen and quickly signing the papers before anything could be altered. "No, everything is... perfect."

\--

Arthur had walked through this door hundreds of times in the years that his family had lived in the small suburban house, but today it felt as if he were entering the foyer for the very first time. It was funny, in the days that he had been gone, nothing had changed: it was the same furniture, the same pictures hanging on the walls, and the same damn bird chirping up a storm at his arrival, yet somehow it all felt brand new. Suddenly the pile of mud stained sneakers next to the door looked charming, the various pictures adorning the wall warmed his heart, and Pierre's frantic chirps felt like a classical ballad in his ears. It was wonderful to be home.

"Dad's home!" He turned towards the end of the hall where he had heard Alfred's excited squeal. Before he could even set down his suitcase Alfred was by his side (papers fluttering around in the wake of his swift movement) an eager smile planted on his face. "Did you bring me anything from your trip?"

"Hi Dad," Matthew greeted as he calmly entered the entryway behind his brother. "How was your trip?"

"Where are the presents?" Alfred asked. He was already frantically digging through Arthur's luggage and pulling out stray articles of clothing in his quest for a souvenir. 

Under normal circumstances Arthur would have been more than a bit annoyed at the giant mess that Alfred was making (one that the boy wouldn't lift a finger to clean), but today was not a normal day and Arthur was just glad to see his son's typical rambunctious antics (and relieved that he had left the duffle bag with his Super suit in the trunk of his car).

"I have your present right here lad," Arthur laughed as he wrapped his arms around both Alfred and Matthew and lifted them into the air. The boys squirmed and fussed in his embrace as Arthur spun them around before kissing their cheeks red. He could tell that the twins were startled by the gesture, because he had not shown them this much affection in years, but he didn't care. Arthur only wanted to show his sons how much he loved them. "It's good to see you boys again," he breathed, offering each cheek another kiss before finally allowing the boys to set foot on the ground.

"Geez Dad, you were only gone one weekend," Alfred said, rubbing his cheek fiercely as if to erase all traces of his father's kisses. Not that Arthur cared. He saw straight through the gesture and to the smile pulling at the boy's lips.

"A very _long_ weekend, Alfred," he explained, unable to resist the urge to pat the boy's hair as he spoke. "Where's your sister?"

"In her room," Matthew answered. "Papa put her down for a nap."

He felt something inside of him stir at the mere mention of Francis and Arthur had to fight to keep the lustful smirk off of his lips. "And where's Papa?"

"Outback using the lawn mower," Alfred told him.

"Alfred, I thought I told you it was your job to mow the lawn?"

"Papa's not mowing the lawn. He's just trying to fix the lawn mower, because Alfred ran over a sprinkler and broke it."

Alfred glared at his brother, pinning him with a bitter look filled with contempt at the betrayal. "Tattle tail," he practically hissed.

The urge to scold the boy was strong, but his other urges were stronger, so Arthur decided to put his lecture on the back burner for now. "Don't worry, Alfred. I'm not angry," he assured him as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "But it is such a lovely day out, what's say I treat you two to a movie." He watched with a great deal of amusement as twin blue eyes widen at the suggestion. "Here you are boys: this should be enough for your tickets and some popcorn." Arthur handed each boy a twenty before ushering the confused pair out the door. "Hurry now. You might still be able to make the matinee. Don't see anything inappropriate."

Matthew looked as if he wanted to question this odd behavior, but Alfred didn't give him the chance. With a quick "Thanks Dad!" Alfred grabbed his brother's wrist and dragged him down the block and towards the movie theater. Arthur smiled at their retreating forms certain that between Matthew's force fields and Alfred's super speed they'd be perfectly fine on their own for a little while. Once the two were out of sight, Arthur shut the front door and headed towards the back of the house. 

He spotted Francis from the kitchen window. He was kneeling over the fallen mower, back turned towards the house, hair pulled away from his face in a tight pony tail, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was completely focused on the task in front of him and Arthur was hoping to sneak up behind him, but years of constantly looking over your shoulder expecting someone to pull a weapon on you made it impossible to be surprised. Thus Francis instantly turned and looked towards Arthur despite how softly the man had opened the screen door when he stepped into the backyard.

"You're home early," Francis said by way of greeting. "I thought your wouldn't be back until evening."

"Planning to fix yourself up for me?" Arthur teased as he settled himself down on the grass beside Francis.

Francis responded with a tired smile and Arthur saw the sweat dripping from his brow and down his neck, the dirt and oil caking his fingers and forearms as he snaked his arm up into the lawn mower, and the grass stains decorating his khaki pants. If Arthur weren't still a prude at heart, he would have taken the man right then and there.

"I always look good," Francis assured him, giving the loose bits of blond hair framing his face a good toss for emphasis. 

"Even when you're sweaty and frustrated?"

Francis frowned, pulling his arm out of the mower and bringing a few bits of twisted plastic and metal with him. He turned his finger tips into shoe lace thin snakes as he continued to flush out the rest of the debris clogging the blades. "I swear that boy does not look where he is going when he uses this thing," Francis grumbled. "Just runs over everything in his path without ever giving a thought to the repercussions of his actions."

"Just like his father."

"But I am going to fix this," Francis declared. "I am going to fix this lawn mower even if I have to lose a finger in the process."

"You might just loose an arm at this rate," Arthur told him, wrapping his hand firmly around Francis's wrist and pulling it away. "Just let it be darling. I'll see to it later."

"I can fix it myself. I do not need _you_ to do everything for... 'Darling'?"

Arthur responded to the puzzled look in his husband's eyes by gently grasping his face in his hands and planting a firm kiss to his lips. Francis stiffened in surprise when Arthur slipped his tongue out and began to caress the inside of his mouth with enough passion and drive to rival even Francis's elastic tongue. It had been so long since they'd kissed like this and Arthur didn't want to stop and wouldn't have if it weren't for the sudden burning need to breath.

He felt Francis shudder as he pulled away from him, a pleasant moan escaping him as he licked his lips, still very much in a daze. "What's gotten into you?"

"I had a very long weekend," Arthur explained, wrapping one arm around Francis's shoulders and using the other to hook under his knees. "And I just remembered that I left without receiving a proper send off."

Francis stiffened as Arthur lifted him off of the ground and towards the house. Arthur could tell that a thousand different thoughts were shifting through his head, each one likely more startled than the other. "Well... where are the boys?"

"Out," he told him. "We have the whole house to ourselves."

\--

Francis let out a long sigh as he basked contentedly in the afterglow of their love making. It had been too long since they had lain together like this; naked bodies dripping with sweat and wonderfully sore limbs tangled underneath the sheets of their bed. Far too long since Francis had felt that familiar pleasant numbness in his hips that only came after a round of love making that allowed Francis to stretch and bend every inch of his body to such degrees that would make the pages of the Karma Sutra wither in awe. Francis didn't know whether he had the weekend away or a hidden desire that had been building inside of Arthur to thank for this, but he was more than appreciative.

A heavy hand came to rest on top of his back and Francis found the little hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in anticipation. He practically purred as he pressed himself even closer to the body lying beneath him, listening happily to the heavy breaths and steady heart beat.

"Ah, you can be so wonderfully surprising at times, mon amour," Francis breathed, rubbing small circles into Arthur's pale chest. "I shall have to return the favor."

His words were only met with a thoughtful silence and Francis had a feeling that he would not like wherever Arthur's current train of thought was taking him. He settled himself in and waited and was soon rewarded when Arthur, after a heavy sigh and a thoughtful cough, asked "Francis... do you ever regret marrying me?"

Francis frowned at the question, because he could not see how they had gone from a pleasant afternoon of passionate 'we have not slept together in ages and I need to be reminded of all the wonders your body has in store for me' sex to questioning the stability of their marriage. 

"Of course I do not regret marrying you," Francis assured him quickly, because he knew that every second of silence was a second Arthur would assume was a sign of reluctant hesitation and doubt. "I love you."

His answer didn't seem to satisfy Arthur and Francis wasn't at all surprised. He craned his head to look up at him and found himself greeted by a look of uncertainty as Arthur turned his green eyes away from Francis's face and fixed his gaze on the far wall. "You could have done so much better than me," Arthur muttered and even without looking into his eyes Francis could see a thousand troubling thoughts swirling around in his mind. Arthur had always been so terribly insecure -- about himself, about their relationship, about his role as a husband and father -- and as much as Francis loved him, he found it quite tiring to have to constantly reassure the man that he was doing a wonderful job, no matter what the nagging little voice in the back of his mind told him. "You had your pick of any Super... but you settled for me." 

"I did not _settle_ for you, I _chose_ you," he stressed, emphasizing each word with a gentle pat. "Remember? You proposed and I said yes. And then there was that terribly long engagement..."

The words had left his lips before Francis could even register what he had said and he wished more than anything that he could take them and all the painful memories that came with it back. That "terribly long engagement" had been punctuated by dozens of law suits, Francis's parents disowning him, and the twins being conceived before finally concluding with a paper shoved under their noses telling them both that they had to either marry right away or risk separation. 

Francis had struggled to keep all of his emotions in check, because he knew that whatever pain he was feeling would be nothing compared to the torment Arthur had been putting himself through. To this day Arthur was still convinced that he had been the sole cause of the collective push for Super retirement and Francis would give anything to take the burden of that guilt away from him.

"I... I don't think I've been a very good husband," Arthur said slowly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.

"Arthur," Francis began, but soon found himself interrupted. 

"I mean it, Francis," Arthur went on firmly. "I could have been a lot better to you and the children. I suppose it's because I kept letting my job get in the way, but I promise that I won't let that happen anymore. Starting now I'm going to be better."

Francis looked up at him and Arthur looked back, a confident reassuring smile pulling at his lips and Francis hoped that he could believe him. 

"I am glad to hear that, mon cher," he beamed. Francis adjusted himself, pushing away from Arthur and shifting his position until he was sitting on top of him with his legs straddling Arthur's narrow hips and his hands placed firmly on his soft chest. "I do think that we have rested for long enough, yes? How about we continue where we left off?"

He didn't give Arthur time to answer and instead went right to stretching his arms to wrap themselves around Arthur's wrists. Francis smiled down at his husband as he pulled Arthur's arms above his head and then proceeded loop his noodle like arms around the headboard, effectively securing Arthur's hands far above him.

"Ah, once again it seems that Monsieur Élastique has Captain Invincible right where he wants him," Francis teased, nudging the growing hardness between his legs against Arthur's side.

Arthur returned his smile, a knowing glimmer in his eyes, as he shifted his legs -- with some difficulty -- until they were wrapped firmly around Francis's waist. "That's right, Monsieur Grenouille, you have me, but what do you plan to do with me?"

Francis had been very much intent on showing Arthur exactly what he had in store for him, but just as he leaned in to set his plan into action a metallic crackle cut through the stillness of the room and was soon followed by the distinct wail of a cranky infant.

"Merde, it is the baby," Francis huffed, unwinding his arms and releasing Arthur from his grasp. "Un moment, mon amour," Francis all but purred as he leaned forward to place a quick kiss to Arthur's lips.

Yet when he made to pull away he soon found his shoulders caught in a tight, vice like grip. He barely heard the throaty moan that rumbled against his lips as Arthur took advantage of his momentary shock and literally flipped the two of them over, leaving Francis pinned against the bed and Arthur looming over him.

"Stay here," Arthur told him. "I'll see to the baby." Arthur gave the tip of his a quick peck before rolling off of Francis and slipping into a pair of pants that had been left on the floor.

"Are... are you sure?" Francis asked, because Arthur never saw to Angelique when she was in a fussy state. Usually whenever the baby cried Arthur would ignore it, feigning obliviousness until Francis had no other choice but to stop whatever he had been doing to take care of her.

"Of course I'm sure," Arthur scoffed as he pulled a gray t-shirt over his head. "She's my baby too, isn't she? Wait here. I'll be back in a second and we can pick things up then."

Francis didn't respond to that. He merely watched in quiet awe as Arthur walked out of their bedroom and disappeared down the hall. The sniffling wails emitting from the baby monitor soon came to an end and Francis sat back and listened to Arthur coo over their little girl.

" _Alright now, Angel, no need to fuss,_ " Arthur crooned gently. " _Daddy's here._ "

" _Dada! Dada!_ "

A tired smile spread across Francis's face as the gentle words and loving whispers filtered in from the monitor's speaker and soothed him like a tender lullaby. His eyes began drifting shut as he curled himself into a tight ball in the middle of the bed and for a moment Francis felt certain that he would drift off before Arthur could return.

" _Francis? Francis!_ " Arthur's voice cut through the air and pierced the sleepy cocoon that had wrapped itself around Francis's mind and he soon found himself wide awake. " _Francis, get in here this instant._ "

He could tell from Arthur's chiding tone that there was no emergency, but Francis couldn't imagine what could have caused the man's sudden shift in mood. With a reluctant sigh, he slipped out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown, slipping it on as he padded down the hall towards Angelique's nursery. When he entered he was instantly met with the perturbed scowl that was currently occupying Arthur's face.

"Francis," he began sternly as he adjusted his grip on Angelique, who was in turn busy rubbing the sleep from her wide brown eyes. "Is this _another_ new dress?"

Francis relaxed, smiling innocently at the question and the powder blue gown that his little girl looked absolutely charming in. "It was on sale," he assured him, but the excuse was not good enough for Arthur.

"Dammit Francis, that's not the point!" Arthur chided. "This is the third time this week that you've bought another outfit for her and she's barely grown an inch! And let's not to forget the dozens of ribbons and hair pins she amassed and the collection of shoes that outnumber mine, Alfred's, and Matthew's combined! Sometimes I think you forget that Angelique is a baby and not a doll for you to constantly play dress up with."

"But Arthur, look at how adorable she is," Francis crooned, caressing Angelique's round cheek with the tips of his fingers. "This lovely little face just begs for only the best and how can I not give it to her?"

"Oh, control yourself!" Arthur snapped wearily. "I know it pains you to do so, but you're just going to have to resist the urge to buy her every pretty little thing you see in the store or constantly fuss with her hair or..." Arthur's words faded away as his eyes landed on the chubby little legs Angelique had been swinging in the air as they spoke. He frowned as he grabbed one of her tiny feet in his hand and began to inspect it carefully. "Why are her toenails pink?"

Francis smiled as he gently pried the toddler out of Arthur's grasp and held her in his own arms. "I may have painted them while you were away," Francis said flippantly. 

"Francis."

"I was bored and look how cute they look?"

"Francis!"

Despite the heated argument that he was quickly wrapped up in, Francis soon found himself smiling from ear to ear. It was so good to really argue with Arthur again and the fact that it was about something other than their tight budget only added to his silent delight. Surely this was a sign that things were starting to turn around.


	5. Life's Incredible Again

Arthur woke that morning to the pleasant sensation of something warm and wet being pressed against his jaw. He hummed in response, too tired to do more, and soon found the warm moving from along his chin to down his neck until something firm began to sink itself into his skin. 

"Francis," he moaned. His eyes, still clouded by sleep, slipped open and found his husband pressed firmly against his side. It was early morning, he could tell as much for the sun's golden rays filtering in from the gaps in the curtains and for a moment Arthur greeted the sight with panic. "What time is it? Why didn't my alarm go off?"

"Hush now, mon cher, there is still time yet," Francis hummed, pulling his mouth away from Arthur's throat just long enough to speak. "Besides, is this not a more pleasant way to wake up than any silly alarm?"

As Francis's warm breath caressed his neck and the bruise that had been created there began to throb, Arthur couldn't help but agree. Francis soon went back to attacking Arthur's throat, using his lips and teeth to turn every inch of his skin bright red. As lethargy was pushed away in favor of arousal, Arthur slowly began to remember that he had nowhere to go this morning and allowed himself to savor this moment. Francis's lips continued to travel lower, ghosting over the thin fabric of his t-shirt before settling on the cloth of his boxers. Arthur felt his breath hitch as Francis tugged at the waist band of his shorts, pulling them lower until his hardening length was exposed to the stuffy air of the bedroom.

"Francis don't," he chided, although every fiber of his being was tingling with want. "The children will hear!"

"Then you will just have to keep quiet,"

Francis didn't give him much time to get ready, as he himself needed no time at all to be prepared, and thus Arthur found himself being swallowed whole in one gulp and could only clamp a hand firmly over his mouth in order to muffle the cry welling up in his throat. Arthur imagined that even without his powers Francis would have been quiet good at this, but with his elastic mouth he was a master of unparallel skill. He felt the tip of his length hit the back of Francis's throat just as the man hollowed his cheeks and caressed every inch of him with a tongue that could expand and contort itself to every possible shape and size. 

His body tingled and Arthur had to fight against the urge to come right then and there. He concentrated on keeping his right hand securely over his mouth as his left hand groped and floundered uselessly in the air. Arthur was tempted to dig his fingers into the mattress, but the last time he had done that his ears had instantly been greeted by the sound of fabric ripping as he tore through the sheets and top layers of the bedding beneath. Instead he choose to lay his free hand on the back of Francis's head, knowing that no matter how much pressure he put on his skull, Francis would be able to withstand it.

Slowly, Francis began to pull his lips away from him, his teeth grating against Arthur's slick skin. He shuddered at Francis's agonizingly slow pace and the air hitting his spit coated flesh. Just as he began to grow accustomed to the exposure, Francis's lips traveled downward once again, swallowing him at a painfully leisurely pace. The urge to cry out and groan with pleasure was almost too excruciating to resist and Arthur could see his release inching closer as Francis continued with his meticulous pattern. 

He lost all grasp on his control when Francis expanded his tongue, wrapping his limber muscle around Arthur like the rope on a tether ball poll. His muscles were already shuddering beyond control when Francis decided to up the ante and slipped his tongue out to cradle Arthur's balls all while his mouth stayed wrapped around his cock. Arthur came with a shuddering cry, one hand clenching down on his mouth while his other squeezed down on the back of Francis's head.

"Gently, mon cher," Francis chided, cringing visibly as he untangled his hair from Arthur's grasp. "You do not want to pull out all of my gorgeous hair, do you?"

Arthur was barely able to muster up the strength to roll his eyes at the comment as he laid back and allowed the sweat to pour from his skin and for his mind to escape the pleasant post coital fog. 

Francis tittered, beaming pleasantly at his handy work. "Well, I do think you have just enough time for a shower before breakfast," he told him as he slipped out from between the sheets. "I will go wake the children and then make something wonderful for us to eat." Francis was practically glowing as he placed a quick kiss to Arthur's cheek before grabbing his dressing gown and heading out the door.

Arthur smiled at Francis's cheerful mood. It had been some time since he had last seen his husband so chipper this early in the morning and even longer since the two had engaged in such early morning activities. He laughed softly to himself as he rolled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. He would have to return the favor in the near future.

He hastily stripped off his clothes and stepped under the spray of the shower head and promptly began to scrub himself in preparation for a pretend day of work. Arthur didn't have any particular plans for the day, but he reasoned that his time would probably be best spent in search of a new job. After all, even if the money he had received from dismantling the Omnidroid would be more than enough for his family to live off of for the next ten years, this facade wasn't something that Arthur wanted to keep up forever.

Yet even with that thought in mind Arthur couldn't help but frown as his hands were met with the soft flab of his skin. Memories of the way his Super suit had barely covered his doughy body filled his mind and Arthur had to wonder why he had never noticed just how fat he had gotten. He had been well aware that he had let himself go a bit, but he hadn't thought it was this bad.

Switching off the faucet, Arthur stepped out of the shower and headed over to the mirror mounted above the sink. He wiped away the condensation on the glass and proceeded to study himself carefully, taking note that his once lean, muscular frame had all but disappeared underneath a thick layer of pudge. Even his face seemed to have gotten rounder and the lines that decorated his eyes and mouth didn't help much either. It was hard not to cringe at the sight and harder still not to wonder how Francis still found any desire to sleep with him in this pathetic state.

"Arthur! Your breakfast is ready!"

He grimaced at the sound of Francis's voice. He didn't exactly feel hungry, but he knew better than to reject food from Francis. 

Pushing aside the feelings of frustration and self loathing that were currently swirling inside of him, Arthur swiftly toweled himself dry and got dressed. At first he pulled out his usual work attire -- a pair of khakis, a white linen shirt and a tie -- but then thought better of it. As far as Francis knew, he had gotten a promotion and given that fact, wearing the same old clothes would look a bit suspicious. With that thought in mind Arthur reached into the back of the closet and pulled out his old suit, the one he hadn't worn in years and was currently covered in a thin layer of dust, but still fit him just fine. The dust was easily removed with the help of a lint roller and the deep gray jacket went well with his shirt and tie. The only flaw was the wrinkles in his slacks, but he hoped that Francis wouldn't notice that minor detail.

Stepping out of the bedroom he headed towards the kitchen where he found the boys sipping at orange juice and eating a bowl of their favorite colorful sugar coated cereal while Angelique sat in her highchair, nibbling at plain Cheerios. He greeted each of them with a kiss to the cheek, even Alfred who squirmed and grimaced in protest, before taking a seat himself. 

As soon as he sat down, Francis deposited his plate in front of him with a fond smile and a glimmer in his eyes. "My, don't you look smart?" he beamed, but his face quickly fell when his eyes drifted a few inches lower. "Except for your pants. Take them off."

"What?" he sputtered. "Francis-"

"You cannot go in for your first day like this!" Francis chided. "Take off your pants. I will iron them while you eat."

Arthur grumbled under his breath as he reluctantly did as he was told. The children giggled as Arthur stepped out of his trousers and handed them over to Francis who smiled triumphantly at him. "Just don't burn them," he huffed as Francis disappeared out of the kitchen.

When he sat back down he found himself glowering at the plate of cheese coated scrambled eggs, butter covered toast, and pan fried bacon that awaited him. Suddenly the reason for his weight gain became abundantly clear. There was no doubt in his mind that a few things needed to change. He grimaced as he pushed aside his bacon and tried his best to scrape the cheese off of his eggs.

"You're not gonna eat your bacon Dad?" Alfred asked, eyeing the strips eagerly.

"No Alfred, but you can have them if you want."

Alfred eagerly accepted the bacon (and a piece of toast he took so quickly that Arthur had to recount the bread just to see that it was missing) and ate them with such fury that it seemed as if the boy were afraid they'd be taken away.

"There all better," Francis announced as he re-entered the kitchen with the pressed and starched trousers in his hands. "And all because of your wonderful husband. No need to thank me, of course."

Arthur gave him a half hearted smile as he accepted the pants and slipped them back on. A part of him felt awful for making Francis put forth the effort when it was only going to go to waste, but he shrugged the feeling off. At least it was another excuse for Francis to improve his skills with the iron and from the way his scorch free slacks looked, Arthur could already tell that the man had gotten much better.

"Thank you Francis," he muttered, offering him the quick peck on the cheek that Arthur knew he was expecting. 

The gesture was enough to cause his blue eyes to shine with delight, but that look quickly faded when Francis took in the amount of food left behind on Arthur's plate. "Did you not like your breakfast?" Francis asked with concern clear in his tone.

"No, it was fine," he said quickly, because he knew how temperamental Francis was about his cooking. "Just wanted to eat light today. Don't want to be dragged down by a big breakfast on my first day."

"Alright," Francis said slowly as he hesitantly accepted the lie. "Does that mean you do not want the lunch I packed you?"

It was difficult to resist the urge to grimace at the idea of the usual lunch Francis packed for him -- a sandwich made with a buttery croissant and slathered in mayonnaise -- and even harder to turn it down when he knew that Francis's pride had already been wounded that morning. "No, of course I'll take it," he assured him, already considering ways to dispose of the meal without leaving any evidence behind.

Francis smiled as he deposited the brown paper bag into Arthur's hands and the mere weight of it was enough to turn his stomach. "Well, you should probably hurry or else you will be late."

Arthur frowned thoughtfully as he looked at the clock mounted on the wall and saw that it was already nearly eight. "You're right. I should get going... I just need to grab my suitcase."

He didn't wait for a response as he hurried back into their bedroom where he dug his briefcase out of the closet. He quickly stuffed a pair of sweatpants, running shoes, and a t-shirt inside its empty compartment. Thanks to his abilities, going to a gym wouldn't do him any good, but a trip to the train yard would suit him just fine. Arthur reasoned that dedicating one morning to a light exercise would do him a world of good and as soon as he was done he would go back to hunting for a new job.

\--

Francis frowned as he flipped through the pictures displayed on his monitor. He had taken photos for Antonio's cafe just as he had promised, but he wasn't happy with the quality of his results. Many of the images were blurred, the lighting wasn't right, and a thousand more little imperfections kept popping up to greet him him. Clearly he would end up deleting more photos than he would like and the ones that he saved would need some serious attention when he edited them, which would eat up more time than he had at the moment seeing how it was already past five and he still hadn't started dinner or finished the laundry or made sure that the boys didn't need any help with their homework.

A flutter of papers and a sudden gust of wind alerted him to Alfred's presence and it was only thanks to his parental instincts that he was able to spot the bag of chips the boy was clutching in his hand. "Come back here," he chided, stretching his arm across the living room and towards the hall. He had just managed to catch Alfred by the end of his shirt before he could disappear into his bedroom. Alfred stopped in his tracks, turning to pout at Francis as he plucked the plastic bag from his grasp. "No snacks. You will spoil your appetite."

"But you haven't even started dinner yet," Alfred protested. "And I'm starving!"

"Can we have poutine for dinner tonight, Papa?" Matthew asked, suddenly appearing at his side.

Francis answered the question with a tired sigh while running a gentle hand through the boy's wavy hair. "Perhaps," he relented. 

"Can we have hamburgers too?" Alfred put in.

"We had hamburgers last week," Matthew protested.

"Yeah, but burgers are awesome!"

The argument was interrupted by the gentle vibrations and chimes of his phone. Checking the display screen Francis was mildly surprised to see Arthur's name flashing in front of his eyes. It was unusual for Arthur to call after work or before work or at work. It was simply unusual for Arthur to call at all during a work day. Clearly this was an emergency.

"Hello? Arthur?" Francis answered, a slight note of worry coloring his words. "Is something wrong?"

The boys seemed to sense their father's anxiety and quickly fell silent.

"Come outside," was Arthur's cryptic reply and Francis noticed right away that there was something off about his tone.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"I have something I want to show you."

"You are home already?"

"Of course I'm home!" Arthur snapped. "Just come outside and stop ruining my surprise." With an irritated huff Arthur proceeded to hang up the phone, leaving Francis feeling more confused than before.

"Is something wrong, Pops?" Alfred asked, concern coloring his words.

"Is Dad alright?"

"I... I think so," Francis began hesitantly as he stood to head towards the door. Angelique, who had been playing quietly in her playpen, whined in protest at being ignored and Francis quickly went to scoop the baby into his arms before once again heading towards the door.

When he stepped outside he watched as a sleek navy blue sports car with a silver finish cruised down the street before pulling into their driveway. His eyes nearly tripled in size when Arthur stepped out of the driver's seat and smiled proudly towards them.

"Whoa! Dad bought a car!" Alfred cried and Francis had to place a firm hand onto the boy's shoulder to keep him from quite literally zooming over towards the vehicle in his excited state. 

"You... you bought an Aston Martin?" Francis stammered, too stunned to even remember how to walk properly. He merely stood on the front steps staring as the sleek vehicle glimmered in the light of the setting sun. The boys trotted over to the car, staring and cheering in awe at the sight of the magnificent machine.

"Incredible isn't it?" Arthur gushed as he stepped away from the car to walk up beside him. He pried Angelique out of Francis's quickly loosening grasp and gently tossed her a few inches in the air. "Doesn't she remind you of the Invinc-obile? She's pre-owned so there are a few miles on her, but I got her for a good price."

Francis blinked at the sound of Angelique's giggles, turning to watch the fond glimmer in Arthur's green eyes as he continued to play with their daughter and Francis realized then what had been so strange about his tone. Arthur was giddy.

"What happened to our agreement to consult each other on all major purchases?" Francis asked bitterly, because he couldn't see how the man could chew him out for wanting to buy a new vacuum one minute and then purchase a luxury sports car the next. True that had been on a different day with a different salary, but it was still insulting none the less. "And exactly how do you think we are going to pay for this? You have barely had your new job for more than a week and already you are spending the money you have not earned yet! And... Mon Dieu! I am beginning to sound like _you_!"

Arthur sneered at the comment and Francis was happy to see a familiar expression on his face. "Don't sound so distraught now."

He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and trying to find the excitement he should be feeling at this new purchase, but it was difficult to shift from thinking "we can't afford it" to "let's just enjoy it" after so many years of living with a tight belt. Perhaps if he were still in the days of his frivolous trust-fund wielding shop around the clock youth he could oh and aw right along with the boys, but right now he couldn't find that part of himself. 

"You are a bit too young to be having a midlife crisis, Arthur Kirkland," Francis said at last. "If anyone in this family should be running around buying luxury cars, it should be me."

Arthur smiled smugly at him, a reaction that Francis hadn't been anticipating, before pulling out a spare set of keys from his back pocket. "Well I didn't keep all the fun for myself."

Francis frowned when Arthur proceeded to drop the car keys into the palm of his hands. It was only when Francis noticed a distinctly different metallic logo jingling at the end of the keys that he saw another car pull into their driveway, this one silver and boxy and sporting a bright red bow on the hood.

"It's a Bentley!" Alfred squealed gleefully.

"I suppose we can share in the fun part of my 'mid life crisis, '" he teased as he pressed a kiss to Francis's cheek.

If Arthur continued speaking, Francis didn't hear him. He was too busy focusing on how his vision was being swallowed up by massive black spots. His knees soon gave out and he found himself skinning to the ground before Arthur could think to catch him. Francis promised himself that when he came to he would give Arthur the best sex of his life.

\--

"Dad, can I borrow some money?"

Arthur quickly put away his check book at the sound of Alfred's voice. He tucked it back into the top drawer of his work desk and locked it tight. He didn't usually lock his desk drawer, because Francis and the boys always stayed away from his den even when he wasn't home, but he simply couldn't risk having any of them rummaging through his things anymore.

"What do you need it for, lad?" Arthur asked, turning towards the doorway in order to give Alfred his full attention.

"Nothing," was the boy's instant response and Arthur found himself frowning at the answer.

"Well if it's 'nothing' then you don't really need it," he countered.

Alfred pouted, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the next as he reconsidered his words. "Well, there's nothing I really wanted to buy," he explained. "I just wanted some money for when I go to the mall later."

"Fair enough," Arthur began slowly, leaning back in his chair and studying the boy carefully. "And how were you planning to get there?" Once again Alfred shifted under his scrutiny and Arthur saw the answer quite clearly. "Come here, Alfred," he instructed, motioning for the boy to approach him. 

As soon as Alfred was standing by his side Arthur lifted him up and placed him on his lap. He knew that Alfred was too old for the gesture, but the boy was already moving into his 'I'm too cool to be around my parents anymore' phase and Arthur wanted to take advantage of the time where the boy didn't protest _too greatly_ against such displays of affection. Sure enough, Alfred squirmed and pulled away for just a second before settling down when he realized that his father wasn't going to put him down.

"How long has it been since we've had some time together, just the two of us?" Arthur asked seriously.

Alfred frowned, considering the question carefully, before answering with a shrug of his shoulders. "I dunno."

"I think that means far too long," Arthur chuckled as he gave Alfred's back an affectionate pat. "What do you say instead of going to the mall with your friends I take you somewhere where you can run as fast as you can without anyone seeing you?"

Alfred's eyes instantly lit up like the morning sun and once again Arthur knew he had his answer.

\--

"How much further Dad?" Alfred whined, clutching his football (the American kind) to his chest eagerly as they continued their little trek.

Arthur smiled over his shoulder reassuringly before continuing on his way. It was late in the day and the drive had eaten up most of the sunlight, but Arthur felt certain that it was worth it just to spend this time with Alfred. When they finally reached the clearing of grass, Arthur was able to use his sharp eyes to survey the area. There was nothing but gentle, slopping hills and lush meadow for as far as he could see. No one in sight to pry on them and that thought caused his smile to widen.

"Alright Alfred, hand me the ball."

Alfred beamed, and did as he was told, tossing the leathery, oblong shaped ball into Arthur's waiting grasp. Arthur held the ball carefully, adjusting his hand so that his fingers were caressing the laces. That was the proper way to hold a football wasn't it? He had never been very familiar with the sport, but Alfred loved it. He'd attempted to explain it to Arthur several times, but each time he just ended up tuning out his son's chattering.

"I'm not going to hold back now," Arthur warned the boy. "So be ready."

He watched as the boy gave him an eager nod, but made no further move to prepare. Alfred didn't start sprinting or even fall into a running stance, only stayed staring eagerly up at Arthur. He gave a soft chuckle at the sight before winding himself up to throw. In an instant the ball was out of his hands and flying towards the sun. It was already a speck on the horizon when he turned his gaze back towards Alfred.

"See if you can catch... Alfred?"

There was only a puff a smoke where Alfred once stood and before Arthur could even think to look around him for any signs of him, a gust of wind swelled up beside him. He blinked down at Alfred who was pinning him with a wide smile as he giggled at his own accomplishment, his football clutched tightly to his chest. Arthur's heart filled with pride when he noted that the boy hadn't as much as broken a sweat.

"Good catch Alfred," he laughed as Alfred casually tossed the football to him, "but I do believe the object of the game is for you to throw it back."

"Well I run faster than I throw," Alfred pointed out and the two soon found themselves dissolving into a fit of giggles.

\--  
Arthur couldn't recall the last time he had given Francis flowers. In fact, if he truly sat back and thought about it, he would have to say he had never given Francis a proper bouquet, but he had never been very good at gift giving. Francis had always been the one to present him with things and the first gift he had ever bestowed upon Arthur, then Captain Invincible, was a dozen yellow roses. The gesture had been meant as a (sarcastic) peace offering, but Invincible had responded to the offer by tearing the flowers to mulch. Tonight he hoped to make up for that little incident.

Francis spotted him the moment he entered the kitchen and a pleasant smile tugged at his lips at the sight of the bouquet of lilies. It was a common misconception that Francis's favorite flower was the rose, but Arthur knew him well enough to know that while he was fond of roses he adored lilies.

"Flowers? How thoughtful," Francis smirked, turning his attention away from the stove and towards the offered lilies. Francis accepted the bouquet and proceeded to bring them to his nose to take a long, thoughtful sniff. "You are losing your touch, mon cher," he hummed thoughtfully. "Last week you gave me a car. This week it is merely flowers that I must be content with?"

Normally Arthur would have rolled his eyes and told Francis to be content with what he had, but not tonight as he had been prepared for such a reaction. "I thought you might say something like that," he smirked as he pulled out the small plastic bag he had been hiding behind his back and deposited it into Francis's hand.

It was difficult to fight back against the chuckle bubbling on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to swallow it down as he watched Francis's blue eyes widen as he read the label on top of the pouch. "Fois gras?" he gasped, fumbling with both the bag of duck liver and the bouquet of flowers. "I have not had fois gras since... since my graduate studies!-" He practically swooned as he held the little pouch to his chest, his little French heart no doubt swelling in anticipation of all the meals he could prepare with the prized ingredient.

"Well enjoy it, because it was a pain to come across," Arthur told him as he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.

"I hope this does not cut into the grocery budget," Francis said after a few minutes of day dreaming.

"Don't worry, you won't be spreading your preserves on bargain bread or making sandwiches with government cheese," he grumbled before taking a long sip from the bottle.

Francis nodded as he placed his gifts aside for the time being before his expression turned serious. "Well, do you think you can bring yourself to do me another favor?" 

Arthur felt his face instantly twist into a frown. He had a feeling whatever favor Francis had in mind was going to be quite costly. Not that they couldn't afford it at the moment, but still, it was the principal. "What did you break this time? The disposal? The dryer? Wrap your Bentley around a tree?"

"It is nothing like that!" Francis huffed irritably, before quickly shifting back to his mask of seriousness. "I want you to have a talk with Mathieu."

He blinked at the unexpected request. Matthew was, after all, the last child he would have expected to be a problem given his quiet, well behaved nature. "Matthew? What did he do?"

"I got a phone call from his principal," Francis sighed. "She says that his teachers have been complaining about him disappearing during the day, but I think that he may just be going invisible. I asked him about it, but he would not say anything."

Arthur nodded at Francis's words. He had been noticing that Matthew had been going invisible at the oddest times and a part of him wondered whether or not it was intentional. Invisibility wasn't a very common power, but Arthur did recall hearing that the Supers who possessed it would often fight to keep it in check and that if left untrained those Supers could find themselves struggling to stay _visible_. 

On the other hand, it was quite possible that Matthew was just using his ability as an excuse to avoid others. After all, he was entering into a very confusing age and juggling powers and puberty couldn't be easy. Arthur himself hadn't begun to develop his abilities until he was well into high school, but Matthew and Alfred had been born with their powers. It was just another side effect of having two Supers for parents.

"I'll have a chat with him. Where is he?"

"In his room," Francis said, nodding towards the other end of the house. He offered Arthur a quick peck on the cheek before allowing him to go on his way.

He left the kitchen then, walking passed Alfred who was currently playing video games in the living room, and down the hall towards the boys' room. Arthur peaked into the seemingly empty bedroom, his eyes looking from one end to the other in search of one of the two occupants. He tsked at the sight of one unmade bed and a sea of clothes and toys spread out across the barely visible carpet. _Alfred,_ he noted with a shake of his head.

"Matthew?" he called out as he took a step into the bedroom.

"Right here."

He jumped at the sudden sound of the quiet voice and twisted around to see Matthew standing behind him, a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Don't worry about that, lad," he chuckled as he rustled the boy's hair affectionately. "But I did want to have a quick word with you. Are you in the middle of anything?"

Matthew responded with a shake of his head before waiting patiently for Arthur to continue. 

Arthur closed the door behind them, before moving to sit down on top of Matthew's neatly made bed and motioned for the boy to follow suit. Matthew did as he was instructed, settling down on the mattress beside Arthur without making as much as a peep. 

Arthur sighed at this. He had to wonder what had caused Alfred to become so restless and independent while Matthew only became more withdrawn with every passing day. "Your Papa and I are worried about you, son," Arthur began, getting straight to the heart of the issue. "You've been so distant lately. Is there something the matter?"

A slight flush began to spread across Matthew's cheeks, his eyes sinking towards the ground at the knowledge that his behavior had not gone completely unobserved. Yet when Matthew did not respond to his question Arthur found himself growing a bit frustrated. He shifted a bit closer to the boy, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Matthew responded to the gesture by stiffening and going transparent for a split second. That simply would not do.

"Matthew, you know that you can always talk to me, don't you?" he said gently. 

Matthew responded with a soft "Yes" and Arthur was relieved that the boy was at least speaking.

"That's good," he told him, giving his shoulder a quick pat. "After all, I care for you and I just want what's best for you, so if anything has been bothering you lately, anything at all, you can discuss it with me."

He watched as Matthew shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glancing around the room hesitantly, and Arthur knew right away that the boy had something on his mind. He was tempted to prompt him further, but decided against it. Matthew would come out with it when he was ready.

"Well, uh," Matthew began, the blush returning to his cheeks as he spoke. Arthur waited for him to continue, giving his arm gentle pat for encouragement. "Are you and Papa alright?"

Arthur felt himself stiffen at the question, because it was the last thing he had been expecting Matthew to say. "Of... of course we're alright," he answered as soon as he recovered himself. "What made you think that we weren't?" 

Even as the question left his lips, Arthur knew right away that it was a foolish thing to say. After all, Matthew may have been young, but even he would have noticed the way Arthur and Francis had been drifting apart little more than a month ago. Yet the idea that he may have been the reason for his son's discomfort made Arthur feel like an absolute heel.

"Well, you and Papa used to fight a lot," Matthew explained slowly. "And that wasn't good, but I got used to it. Then... then you stopped talking and now you're both happy all the time and..."

"And you're worried that we're going to go back to not talking again," Arthur finished when Matthew lost his nerve and his words began to fade away. 

Matthew answered with a weak little nod and Arthur felt his heart clench in his chest when he noticed the slivers of tears prickling in the boy's deep blue eyes. Arthur knew then that he wasn't a heel, he was an ass. He couldn't believe that he had been so self-centered. It had been bad enough for him to shut down and allow himself to drift away from Francis, but to turn a blind eye to what their crumbling relationship had been doing to Matthew. His stomach twisted as he remembered the look in Alfred's eyes not long ago when he and Francis had been screaming at each other. It hit him then that not one, but both of his boys and been sitting back and watching their marriage crumble. He wasn't an ass, he was dirt.

He gathered Matthew into his arms and held him against his chest, careful not to squeeze too hard for fear of hurting the poor boy. "It's alright, Mattie," he assured as he gave his back a soothing pat. "Your Papa and I were just going through a rough patch, but the two of us are a team and as such we'll always be united against the forces of..." He found himself trailing off then, not really certain where he had been planning to go with that train of thought. "The point is that we're going to work on communicating better so you won't have to worry about us fighting too much or too little ever again."

A soft laugh escaped from Matthew's lips and Arthur felt himself relaxing at the sound.

"Now what do you say that we do something fun? Just the two of us?" he offered. "I know. How about if this weekend, I take you to the zoo? We can see their new polar bear exhibit. Won't that be fun?"

Matthew nodded, wrapping his arms around Arthur and offering him a quick squeeze. Arthur smiled and eagerly returned the hug.

\---

"Angelique, you are the strangest little thing," Arthur informed the girl as he filled up one of the many little bowls scattered around the bathtub with warm water. "You must be the only baby in the world who actually enjoys bath time."

Angelique didn't respond to his comment, because she was too busy playing with her little rubber fishes and plastic turtle to even acknowledge her father's words. Arthur didn't mind and took the opportunity to gently pour the water over her dark brown hair while she was still distracted by her toys. A happy little chirp escaped Angelique's lips as the water cascaded down her, erasing the soapy suds that had been clinging to her head. She celebrated their disappearance by slapping the water eagerly, her little hands creating surprisingly large bursts of water that scattered around and poured over the sides of the tub.

"Settle down, settle down!" Arthur chided as he gently grabbed her squirming arms in his hands, effectively ending the little tsunami. "Any more of that and the whole bathroom will be flooded."

"Dada," Angelique chattered as she pushed one of her little fish towards him before popping one of the bubbles in the water. "Dada Dada!"

"Yes, yes, Dad's here," he sighed, smiling as he shifted against the smooth porcelain and lifted Angelique into his arms. "And Dad's getting pruney. So what's say we-"

There was hardly a knock to be heard before the knob was twisted and the door flung open. "Arthur," Francis began as he came marching into the bathroom without as much as a muttered "excuse me" before he barged in. "Would you...?" Francis's words came to a slow halt when his eyes fell on Arthur as he took in the scene for the first time. Arthur squirmed, his face turning several shades of red, as the stunned silence stretched on and on between them. "You are in the tub."

"Dammit Francis! Knock first!"

"You are taking a bath together? How sweet!"

"Get the hell out of here!"

"Do not move! I need my camera!"

"Don't you _dare_! Get back here and close this door!"

They went on like that for a good five minutes, splashing and shouting and fumbling about the little bathroom like a couple of fools and creating a mess far worse than anything Angelique could have managed on her own. After a while, Arthur managed to get himself and the baby out of the tub and toweled dry, all while preventing Francis from snapping a single picture.

"I hope you won't tell anyone about this," Arthur muttered as he focused on patting dry the last drops of water from Angelique's hair. "Especially not those damn friends of yours." Francis offered him nothing more than a distant hum and Arthur could tell by the way his eyes were currently focused on Arthur's bare chest that he hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Francis, what are you-"

"I have not seen you naked in this much light for some time," Francis said at last, his words surprisingly thoughtful as he reached out his fingers to caress Arthur's middle. "You have gotten so thin! What happened to your belly? Your love handles?" Arthur yelped when Francis actually gave his sides a studious pinch only to find that there was very little flab for him to grab onto. "What happened to my dear chubby husband?"

Arthur huffed, shifting Angelique in his arms in order to use her as away to cover his suddenly painfully exposed body. He hadn't exactly been hiding himself from Francis, but he had never exactly told him about the strict diet and exercise plan he had put himself on. He didn't think Francis would understand, not with how he had maintained himself so well over the years. Admitting that he had become insecure about his body... well it just seemed painfully juvenile even to his own ears.

"So, you wanted to keep me as your own personal fat joke, is that it?" he accused as he attempted to brush past Francis. 

As usual, it was an impossible task as Francis quickly blocked his path by wrapping his arms around Arthur and pressing their bodies close together. "Oh Arthur," he chuckled, his tone condescending yet sincere in a way that only Francis could manage. "You could lose twenty pounds and then gain a hundred more and I would not care. I would love you just the same."

He swallowed the skeptical groan that longed to bubble its way towards his lips. Somehow he still could not bring himself to believe Francis when he promised such impossible things. "You're getting yourself all wet you twit," Arthur chided while he gently pushed Francis away from him before marching down the hall and towards Angelique's nursery. "What did you barge in there to bother me about anyway?"

"I wanted to know if you would mind terribly watching the children this Saturday," he said as he followed close behind Arthur. "I have been hired for a party."

"Another wedding?" he asked before gently setting Angelique down on the changing table and pulling out a clean diaper. 

"No, an anniversary." Francis walked over to Angelique's dresser and pulled out a pair of powder blue pajamas with little pink starfish. "Twenty five years," he said with a sigh as he handed the pajamas over to Arthur. "Such a long time."

"That's not so long," Arthur huffed as he slipped Angelique into the offered nightclothes. "We've known each other for nearly..." He decided to stop there, because just thinking the words "twenty years" made his joints feel stiff.

Francis offered him a wry smile, having spotted Arthur's hesitance, as he gently pried Angelique's now clothed form away from Arthur and held her gently in his arms. "As I said, it is such a long time," he sighed. "So you will watch the children?"

"Of course I will. They're my children."

"Good," Francis said, smiling in approval. "I should get going."

"Going? Going where?"

"To Antonio's," he explained. "It is Wednesday and it is his turn to host card night."

"Oh. I suppose I'll be ordering pizza then."

"No need. I have already made something for you and the children to eat." Angelique gave a yawn and rested her head on Francis's shoulder. He smiled at her, offering her back a gentle pat. "You should hurry and feed this one before she falls asleep in my arms."

"Oh yes, she's had quite the day," Arthur teased as he placed a hand on Angelique's loose curls. Her hair was still a bit damp and she coed in soft approval at his touch. "All that sleeping and eating and watching television has really taken its toll on her."

"Not to mention looking absolutely adorable while everyone tells her how wonderful she is," Francis added smugly. "She learned that from me."

"Of course she did," Arthur chuckled. 

He watched as Francis rubbed his cheek against Angelique's hair, a quiet smile playing on his lips as the baby closed her eyes and gripped his shirt with one sleepy fist. It was hard to believe that years ago Francis had turned his nose up at the very notion of having children and now he was probably the best father any child could ask for. Suddenly Arthur felt the need to say something, even if he didn't know exactly what that something was. 

"Francis," Arthur began hesitantly. "You know... I just wanted to say that, well, even though we've known each for so long you... You're still very dear to me and..." He sighed, worrying his lip as he struggled to come up with something. Even after all this time he was terrible when it came to putting his feelings into words. "We should do something special. Just the two of us. Perhaps go out to dinner. Somewhere nice."

Francis smiled at him and Arthur saw the little crow's feet by his eyes and the gentle lines near his mouth and he felt certain that Francis had only grown more handsome over the years. "I would like that very much," Francis told him. "And perhaps when I get home, we can play a special game." He pinned Arthur with a wide grin as he tugged at the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Something that involves you wearing only this."

"Dammit Francis, I was trying to be romantic," Arthur snapped as he slapped the eager hand way.

"Yes, but you are so bad at it."

Arthur gave an indignant huff as he, carefully, lifted Angelique out of Francis's embrace. "Oh, go get drunk with your rowdy friends, you lech."

\---

Francis tried in vain to hold back the heavy huffs and groans that were churning in his throat as he climbed the last few flights of stairs towards Antonio's floor. It didn't seem fair that he had to drive all the way downtown just to be greeted by a broken elevator. It would have been more than a bit considerate for Antonio to tell him these things in advance, especially when he lived on the top floor of a twelve story building, but his friend was so scatter brained that the thought probably hadn't even crossed his mind.

He thanked his lucky stars when he finally reached the final floor and took a moment to catch his breath, settling down heavily on the top of the stairs and taking deep, greedy gulps of air. It was times such as this that Francis realized just how out of shape he was. In his younger days he probably would have been able to sprint up these steps without breaking a sweat, but now he felt ready for a shower and a long nap. He silently promised himself that when he got home he would ask Arthur about whatever diet he had put himself on and join him right away. Apparently spending thirty minutes on the treadmill in their garage while Angelique took her afternoon nap was not good enough.

Once Francis felt certain that he would not black out any time soon, he decided to stand up. He took a moment to straighten himself out -- running a careful hand through his hair, smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes, and wiping the sweat off of his brow -- before gathering his things and heading towards Antonio's apartment. When he reached the destination, he gave the door a quick rap and waited patiently for someone to let him in.

Less than a second had passed before the sound of belligerent Italian greeted his ears. The door soon swung open and Francis found himself greeted by Lovino's perpetual scowl. "It's about time you got here, dammit," Lovino snapped as he clenched the door knob with a grip so tight it turned his knuckles white. "It's bad enough that I have to put up with this stupid game night shit, the least you could do is be on time so we won't have to wait up all night for you."

Francis would have explained that he had gotten caught up at home and that the broken elevator hadn't helped matters either, but he knew Lovino well enough to know that he didn't want to hear his excuses. He just wanted to yell. "Here are your photographs," Francis sighed, handing over the yellow envelope that had been buried on top of his work desk for a few days now. "I am sorry I could not bring them sooner."

"You should be sorry, dammit," Lovino huffed as he snatched the envelope out of Francis's hands. "We've been waiting for these pictures for over a week!"

Lovino continued to grumble on and on, but Francis quickly tuned him out. The one nice thing about being around Lovino was that his sour disposition always made Francis appreciate Arthur more. Arthur may not like his friends very much, but he was never so openly hostile towards them. Not that Francis would ever say as much to anyone, especially not Antonio. He understood what it was like to fall for someone who was so starkly different from you and Francis knew that Antonio loved Lovino dearly.

Francis still recalled when the two had first met. It was around the time that Francis and Antonio, or rather Monsieur Élastique and El Infierno, had been recruited by the agency. They had been called in to be fitted for costumes and Lovino had been working as an assistant to his younger brother, a position that to this very day brought him nothing but shame. He remembered the way Lovino had grumbled and groaned about the absurdity of being forced to work under his younger sibling with such venomous fury during his fitting, that Élastique had completely tuned him out, not even bothering to offer the young man a flirtatious glance. 

Infierno on the other hand had been far less aloof and had actually listened to Lovino's complaints with sincere interest. When Lovino's tirade had come to an end, Infierno had turned to him with nothing sort of genuine interest and asked the question Lovino had probably never heard before: "Well if you don't want to work here, what would you rather do?"

Lovino hadn't answered. He merely stared at him with wide eyes and burning red cheeks. Élastique had known then that Lovino had been smitten by Infierno, something that he would not admit to himself for many many years.

When Lovino finally stomped away with his pictures, Francis took the opportunity to let himself inside. He saw Gilbert sitting in the living room and staring at the television while he flipped through channels. Antonio on the other hand was nowhere to be seen, so Francis decided to just settle down beside Gilbert and wait for the other man to appear.

"You actually arrived before me?" Francis noted with a shake of his head. "This is quite the shame."

Gilbert paused in his channel changing long enough to give Francis a bitter scowl. "Hey, I'm always on time."

"Of course you are."

The sound of Lovino's muffled yells filtered in from the far end of the apartment and Francis knew exactly where Antonio had been hiding. The screams grew louder and clearer, but for only just a moment as they were soon silenced by the sound of a door being slammed shut. Francis craned his neck towards the back end of the apartment, where he watched as Antonio emerged from the small hallway.

"Francis, you made it," Antonio noted brightly while he adjusted the ends of his shirt. 

"Yes, I would have gotten here sooner, but I had to take the stairs," he noted bitterly.

"Eh? Why would you do that?"

"Because your elevator's busted," Gilbert supplied helpfully.

"Oh, so that's why you flew up here, eh Gilbert?" Antonio laughed and Francis couldn't help feeling annoyed at him. Francis gave a quiet huff as Antonio leaned over the sofa, resting his arms against the stiff back and positioning himself between Gilbert and Francis. "So can I get you anything?"

Francis asked for a glass of water, because he was still feeling a bit winded from his climb and Gilbert was quick to ask for another beer, although Francis could see that he was currently finishing off his second. "You know Gilbert," Francis began testily once Antonio left to get their drinks. " _You_ could have warned me about the elevator."

"Yeah, I could've," Gilbert drawled, smirking as he continued flipping through stations. He had a feeling that Gilbert was still sore that he had beaten him at cards last week. Not that Francis minded. He knew just how to get back at him.

Once Antonio returned to the living room, he handed each of them their drinks before sitting down on the lounge chair on the other side of the room. Francis could already tell that they would not be playing cards tonight.

"So, Gilbert, how is your brother?" Francis asked, a smug smile pulling at his lips as he took a slow sip from his glass.

Gilbert sneered as he twisted open his new bottle and poured nearly half of it down his throat. "Unbelievable," he grumbled to himself, before adding in a clearer voice "You'll never believe what he told me last week. He and Feli are gonna have a kid."

Francis nearly choked on his water. He hadn't been expecting that response and from the way Antonio's eyes widened, neither had he. "Are you serious?" 

"They're having a baby?" Antonio asked, an eager grin forming on his face.

"Yeah," Gilbert sighed morosely. "They're adopting or planning to. I don't remember which. I just know that they've filled out the paperwork."

"Wow! We're gonna be uncles," Antonio cheered and Francis could see that he was practically humming with glee. 

Antonio had always had a soft spot for children and had likely been hounding a reluctant Lovino over the idea since their relationship had started. Yet considering how long it had taken the two to get married, Francis felt comfortable in saying that the battle for children was not one that would be over any time soon. Doting over his new little niece or nephew would have to hold him over for the time being.

"This is wonderful news Gilbert," Francis said softly when he noticed that the displeased scowl had yet to leave Gilbert's pale features. "You should be very happy for your brother."

As much as Francis enjoyed teasing Gilbert, he was aware of just how lonely his friend sometimes felt. It was hard being the last single man within a group and Ludwig's announcement had likely only served to remind Gilbert just how alone he was.

"Yeah, whatever," Gilbert grumbled. "It just means that they're gonna become more like you and Artie."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said innocently, but Francis could sense that Gilbert was getting at something.

"Gilbert," Antonio chided, but Francis was quick to step in to defend himself.

"I will have you know that Arthur and I are doing just fine," Francis put in confidently. "In fact, we are better than ever. Since Arthur got his promotion he has been like a new man. He stopped drinking, he spends more time with the children, and he has even lost weight."

Francis waited for the sheepish apology that he was certain Gilbert would offer him, but instead found himself pinned with an unreadable look. Gilbert gave a thoughtful hum as he put his beer to his lips, staring at the wall as if to avoid saying something that he knew he shouldn't. Glancing over at Antonio, Francis was troubled to find him in a similar state. Even as he kept his gaze glued to the drink in his hand, Francis could still see a look on his face that was somewhere between hesitant and concerned.

"If you two are going to act so suspiciously, then you should at least wait until I have had something a bit stronger than water," Francis noted. It was then that he recalled that Antonio and Gilbert had reacted in much the same way the last time he had brought up Arthur during their previous game night. "Whatever it is that you are thinking..." Francis began, but he didn't get much further than that as he suddenly couldn't find it in himself to finish.

"What do you say we do something a bit different tonight?" Antonio ventured once the silence that had settled between them became too much for him. "I don't think we'll be able to play cards tonight. Lovi took my deck and threw it out the window. How about we go see a movie?"

"I don't want to see a movie," Gilbert groaned. "We never agree on anything. Why don't we just go to a bar?"

Antonio nodded in approval and volunteered to drive while Gilbert finished off the rest of his drink. The two made to stand, eagerly heading towards the door, but Francis was quick to stop them both, stretching out his arms and wrapping his rubbery limbs around their waists. 

"No one is going anywhere," he snapped as he literally dragged his friends back to their seats and holding them there. "We are not leaving this apartment."

"Geez Francis, if you don't want to walk down the stairs, you don't have to," Gilbert huffed as he struggled against the elastic bonds that were pinning his arms to his side. "I'll carry you down to the parking lot."

"Do not play stupid with me, Gilbert Beilschmidt," Francis told him, a warning clear on his tone. "What have you two been saying behind my back?" His gaze shifted from Gilbert's tight lipped form to Antonio, who was currently squirming around with nervous guilt. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, if you know something and are not telling me..."

"It's not like that, Francis," Antonio said quickly. "It's just... Well..."

"We think Artie's cheating on you," Gilbert relented and as soon as the words were out in the open, Francis sincerely regretted prying them out of him.

His arms instantly went slack, retracting themselves until they returned to their normal size beside him. His insides felt cold at the very notion of Arthur... It was a bitter thought that his mind could not accept. "How could you think that?" he whispered. "Arthur... he loves me."

"Of course he does, amigo," Antonio soothed. Free from his fleshy binds, he moved to join Francis on the sofa and was quick to wrap a supportive arm around his friend's drooping shoulders. "It's just that... well... He's been different. You said so yourself."

"The new car, the crazy hours, the weight loss," Gilbert noted, literally counting out each point as he spoke. "It all seems suspicious."

"But we have been making love constantly," Francis argued. "And the children. He is always with them or with me... How could he...?"

"Well, maybe we're wrong," Antonio offered.

" _Or_ maybe he cheated on you before and now he's acting all super nice because he's feeling guilty," Gilbert put in. "That'd explain all the stuff he's been buying you and the kids."

It would explain a lot, Francis reasoned, because Arthur had been so different lately and it had all started after he'd returned from his conference. He could have cheated then. It would have been so easy for him to be lead astray while Francis was not around. After all, he had become quite distant and unhappy over the years. An affair didn't seem completely impossible considering...

Yet that didn't seem at all like his husband, who had always been so noble and good and devoted to him. _It couldn't be true,_ he told himself. _It cannot._


	6. New and Improved

Arthur frowned as he fingered the frayed bit of fabric and the specks of dried blood on his old uniform. After weeks of stuffing protein bars down his throat and dragging old train cars down by the railroad, Arthur felt certain that he'd be able to slip into his old suit again and not have to worry about his flabby spare tire poking out. Not that it mattered now. The Omnidroid had torn straight through the sleeve and Arthur knew that no self respecting Super could run around in a torn suit.

He sighed, running a thoughtful hand through his spiked hair at the thought. He wasn't a professional Super anymore, hadn't been for a long time, and he had to remind himself that the little stunt he had done a while back was just a way to earn a bit of money for his family. Still, the idea of having his old costume -- one that had seen him through a number of tight spots and hairy situations -- sitting in his den with a gaping hole in it didn't appeal to him. Yet he couldn't just patch the hole up by running it under the sewing machine. This type of fabric needed special attention. There was only one man in the world with the equipment to repair a Super suit and fortunately for Arthur he happened to be a family friend. Not that he relished the idea of the visit.

With a heavy groan Arthur stuffed the torn suit -- gloves and all -- into his suitcase. Straightening out his tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit, Arthur walked briskly from his den and into the kitchen. It had been a little more than a month since his termination from Insuricare and the task of keeping up appearances to his family had become easier with time. He hadn't been actively passing his resume around, but the money he had gained from his little adventure was holding over in spite of what he had spent and Arthur felt certain that he could be comfortably jobless for a while longer.

The children were already diligently eating their breakfast by the time he entered the kitchen, but Francis was notably absent. Arthur greeted the twins with a fond pat on the head and offered Angelique's cheeks a quick pinch. Glancing at the kitchen clock, he noted the time and made pretended that he was running late. He heaved a weary sigh and quickly made himself a cup of tea. "Where's your father?" he asked the boys as he popped a few slices of bread into the toaster.

"He's in his room," Alfred said from between a mouth full of chewed cereal. "I popped a button and he said he'd fix it for me."

Arthur tsked, taking in Alfred's shirtless state for the first time. "You know your father can't sew," he sighed. "I'll go give him a hand."

He walked briskly towards the master bedroom and couldn't resist the urge to smile sympathetically at the sight of Francis's feeble attempts to thread a needle as he sat perched at the foot of their bed.

"You'd think that with your great love of clothes you'd have learned how to mend a button," Arthur commented dryly as he walked over to Francis's side. Francis jumped slightly, startled by Arthur's sudden appearance. "Why didn't you just ask me to do this?"

Francis frowned down at the shirt in his lap and the button held tightly between his fingers. "I... I suppose I did not want to bother you," he said slowly. "I can do this myself."

"No you can't," Arthur chided as he took the needle and thread into his own hands. Threading the needle with nimble fingers, Arthur gently plucked the shirt and button from Francis's grasp and began mending the damaged goods with a practiced hand.

"You will be late for work," Francis noted and Arthur couldn't tell if his tone meant that he wanted Arthur to go or to stay.

"I'll be done soon," he assured him as he glanced over at Francis only to see that he was currently studying him in a strangely intense manor. "You're in an odd mood. Something the matter?"

"No," he answered quickly. "No... Just thinking."

"Oh?" he said in order to prompt Francis onward, but he didn't take the hint. Instead he slipped back into his silent, introspective state and Arthur couldn't help but worry. In all the years he had known Francis, there had been very few moments of silence between them, and none of those moments had been good ones. "Alright Francis," Arthur began, but quickly adjusted his tone when he realized that his words had come out a bit too harsh. "If there's something wrong, then I think you should just say so. The children tend to worry when we get like this."

Francis remained quiet, thoughtful, and it was only when Arthur had finished stitching Alfred's button that he started to smile. It wasn't his usual grin, as there was something still quite uncertain to it, but it was still a relief to see. "I know," he said at last, shifting himself so that he was pressed against Arthur's side. Arthur felt himself relaxing slightly when Francis's smile widened and his arms wrapped themselves around his neck. "I am sorry. Gilbert and Antonio... They said some stupid things last night."

"I'm sure they did," he scoffed, offering Francis's side a gentle pat.

"What time are you coming home tonight?" Francis asked before giving his cheek a quick peck.

"The usual," Arthur told him and received a kiss to his other cheek in return. "Why? Do you need me to pick up something on my way home?"

Francis gave his head a quick shake before giving Arthur's lips a kiss, brief and teasing. "No. No. I just wanted..." Francis didn't get much further than that as he chose to keep kissing Arthur as opposed to finishing his thought. 

Arthur hummed as Francis crawled onto his lap and suddenly all thoughts of hurrying off to his pretend job evaporated from his mind. "Francis," Arthur moaned when their lips parted long enough for him to speak.

"Arthur," Francis breathed as he dove in to kiss him again.

"Papa?" Matthew called from somewhere outside their door. "We're going to be late for school."

"Pops? Can I have my shirt back?"

Arthur sighed, Francis groaned, and they suddenly remembered that they didn't have time for this. "I have to get the boys to school," Francis bemoaned as he climbed off of his husband's lap.

"Well, I could take them if you want," Arthur suggested helpfully.

"Their school is out of the way," Francis reminded him. "And you are already late."

He nodded, remembering the role that he was supposed to be playing. "Yes. Right. Well... We'll pick this up when I get home?"

Francis offered him a small kiss on one cheek and a pat on the other, before grabbing Alfred's shirt and leaving the bedroom. Arthur suddenly felt certain that it was going to be difficult to get through his imaginary work day.

\--

Arthur took a moment to glance down at the directions he had written down on a scrap of paper before turning towards the massive complex approaching from just over the horizon. He had gotten the address out of Francis's phone and while he certainly felt grateful for his husband's ability to maintain acquaintances, he was suddenly feeling uncertain about this little venture. Arthur hadn't paid a visit to the compound in... well, ever, yet Feliciano had still sounded quite chipper when he had phoned him earlier to inform him of his impending arrival. That wasn't a great surprise, however, as Feliciano was always keen and chipper about everything. His real obstacle was Ludwig whom he hadn't seen in years due to their tense history. 

Captain Invincible and Iron Eagle hadn't been rivals for public attention the way Invincible and Monsieur Élastique had been. Rather, it was the very notion of what made a Super a true Super that always caused the two to butt heads. Invincible had always held firmly to the belief that he could handle any situation alone and constantly pointed to the fact that Roman Warrior himself had done a majority of piece keeping as a one man army. Iron Eagle, on the other hand, felt strongly that alliances must be formed during dire circumstances and noted Roman Warrior's formation of the Legion of Supers as proof of such.

Every meeting between the two had been strained at the best of times and now Arthur was inviting himself into the man's home. The situation had disaster written all over it.

He groaned as he remembered the damaged Super suit hidden in his briefcase and reminded himself that this was the only way to get that hole in the sleeve patched. Another reluctant moan escaped him as he pulled up to the massive white washed brick wall with a set of steel doors blocking the main estate from view. Arthur had expected to see a security guard waiting for him by the entrance, but was instead greeted by a camera mounted to the top of the wall and a speaker situated near his window. He wasn't certain what all the security was for, but he had a feeling that Ludwig was behind it.

The radio crackled as the speaker came to life and Arthur soon found himself being barked at by a mechanical German voice. " _Please quickly state your name and purpose for being here or you will be forced to leave the property at once._ "

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly as he scrambled to think of something to say. He hadn't been expecting to encounter Ludwig so soon and found himself more than a bit flustered. "Well... um..." he began as he leaned out the window in order to speak into the radio as if he were ordering at a drive-thru.

He didn't get much further than his halting stammers as a new voice suddenly chimed in from the other end of the intercom.

"Who is it Ludwig? Do we have a guest?" an Italian man chirped over the speaker and Arthur knew right away that it was Feliciano Vargas. "Vee~ It's Francis's husband." 

"Feliciano," he heard Ludwig chide, but he was suddenly cut off.

"Hello Arthur! We are opening the gate for you!"

Sure enough the intercom gave a final, static ridden crackle before cutting off. A warning beep soon greeted his ears as the thick metal doors before him began to slowly creep open. Arthur put his car back into drive and rode up the long, winding road to the main door. 

The house was a strange blend of both Ludwig's and Feliciano's own unique tastes. The main building itself was a cold, rectangular slab of concrete, with perfectly circular windows on the top levels and long even rectangular ones on the ground floor. The front lawn, however, was more elaborately decorated with an impressive collection of marble statues, water fountains, and topiaries. It was a strange mixture of standoffish efficiency and inviting warmth that reminded Arthur of just how insanely different the couple was.

As soon as he parked his car by the front door his ears were greeted by a chorus of barks and howls. Arthur cringed at the sound, not because he disliked dogs, but because he abhorred dealing with so many at once and it seemed that Ludwig and Feliciano owned at least three.

Arthur braced himself for the worst as he grabbed his briefcase out of his car, walked up to the door, and rang the bell. The dogs on the other side seemed to go positively mental at the sound, their barks and howls growing more frantic and Arthur felt himself flinch when he heard the distinct sound of eager paws clawing at the door. He could already tell that they were of a larger breed from the steady pounds and the fact that the rhythmic thumps were coming from above the knob.

He was unspeakably grateful when he heard Ludwig's voice emerge from above the pack's indignant wails, calling out to address each hound by name and silencing them then and there. Arthur allowed himself to breath a quick sigh of relief before the door swung open to reveal a stone faced Ludwig standing back waiting for him.

"Arthur," Ludwig greeted with a sharp nod.

"Ludwig," he returned wearily and his ears were soon met with the sound of a steady growl.

Arthur turned to his left and found the three dogs -- a German Sheppard, a Doberman, and a Golden Retriever -- standing obediently in a neat row beside the door. Yet despite the dogs' clear dutiful nature, he still could tell that one of them, the Doberman it seemed, was growling at him. As irritating as it was to be snarled at like some unwanted prowler, Arthur found comfort in the fact that he now had another argument to make against Alfred's insistent requests for a puppy: dogs hated him.

"Berlitz," Ludwig chided, clearly addressing the Doberman who was quick to fall silent at his master's stern voice.

"Vee~ Ciao Arthur! So good to see you," Feliciano greeted as he emerged from within the depths of the massive house holding yet another animal in his arms. It was a cat this time -- a brown and cream colored tabby with an awkward curl of fur sticking out from his hair -- which meowed pleasantly in Feliciano's arms just before he set the little creature down on the ground. The tabby scurried over to Ludwig's dogs and offered each a fond rub and an affectionate meow. 

It was because Arthur's attention was so fixed on the cat that he was caught off guard when Feliciano came up to his side and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Arthur couldn't stop himself from stiffening, but he fought off the urge to shudder or push Feliciano away. He had never been the most affectionate person and hugging someone who he had always considered an acquaintance at best simply didn't sit well with him. The situation was made all the more awkward thanks to Ludwig's presence, his tall form staring quietly at the two as he watched their embrace with tight lips and narrow blue eyes. The hug couldn't have lasted more than half a minute, but it felt like an eternity by the time Feliciano finally released him.

"It has been so long since you last came by for a visit," Feliciano commented with a wistful grin pulling at his lips as he spoke. "Did you bring your family with you?"

"Uh, no," Arthur explained awkwardly, silently praying that neither Ludwig nor Feliciano asked why he was dropping by in the middle of a Thursday afternoon when he should be at work. "The children are still at school and Francis... well, he has his hands tied at the moment."

Feliciano clearly didn't mean to show it, but Arthur still caught the brief glimmer of disappointment that passed over his expression. "That is too bad," he said with a sigh. "You will have to bring them all by for dinner sometime."

Arthur made an indistinguishable noise in his throat, silently promising himself that he would do no such thing. He had only been in the Beilschimdt-Vargas home for all of two minutes and he was already keen on leaving. He couldn't imagine going through an entire meal like this.

"Are you hungry, Arthur?" Feliciano asked suddenly as if he had read Arthur's mind. "I made some pasta for us."

Panic spiked its way up his spine and Arthur suddenly felt trapped inside the massive house with its clean white walls decorated with lush works of art. He looked at Ludwig for help, but found that he was currently focused on tending to his dogs. "Um, well," Arthur began as he turned his attention back to Feliciano. "I actually came to talk about a suit."

"Okay, we can talk about that after we eat," Feliciano said with a dismissive wave. He grabbed Arthur by the wrist and began dragging him towards what Arthur assumed was the dining room. 

Arthur swallowed a groan, telling himself to simply grin and bear it as he was forced towards what would inevitably be an incredibly draining meal.

\--

Arthur tried not to think about how badly he was ruining his diet as he finished off the side of linguine that had gone with his stuffed manicottis. No one could argue that Feliciano Vargas wasn't a good cook and the lingering taste of the beef and cheese stuffed dish was enough to make his stomach rumble with want. The food was easily the most enjoyable part of his forced lunch. The conversation -- which consisted mainly of Feliciano asking him about "the babies" while Arthur kept impatiently reminding him that there was now only one baby as the boys were a few years shy of being teenagers now -- left much to be desired. 

Ludwig was no great help in that area, but that came as no real surprise either as he had always been very much like a steel trap, even in his younger days. He merely sat there eating his own lunch and sipping his mug of beer. Arthur felt very torn between the desire to scold him for drinking in the middle of the afternoon and the urge to ask him for a logger. However, as he was determined to remain a good guest (and not _completely_ ruin his diet) he settled with doing neither.

"Ludwig and I are going to have a baby of our own soon," Feliciano said suddenly.

Arthur blinked, raising an eyebrow at the announcement. "Well, that's... certainly a big step."

"It sure is," Feliciano chirped happily. He placed a hand on top of Ludwig's much larger fingers and, if at all possible, his smile actually widened. "We submitted the paperwork about a month ago and I just know that the adoption agency is going to contact us any day now."

His gaze shifted from Feliciano's eager, beaming face to Ludwig who looked pale and filled with knotted up worry at the idea of impending parenthood and Arthur felt incredibly sympathetic. He had been in their shoes before and could still remember quite clearly the rollercoaster of emotions that went along with expecting a child for the first time. (Arthur also knew of the considerable strain that such an event could place on a relationship, but he tried not to think too hard on that.)

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, suddenly feeling a strong desire to move away from the topic. "Well, congratulations to the both of you," he began awkwardly. "And thank you for the lunch. I don't mean to be rude, but I did come here with a purpose."

"Oh yes! The suit," Feliciano cried with a laugh as he suddenly recalled the entire reason behind this small reunion. "Let me see it."

The mere mention of the suit was enough to get Feliciano, literally, bouncing in his seats, but Arthur wasn't too surprised by that. This Super Suit was one of Feliciano's old creations, a relic from his past life as a world famous designer of Superhero attire. When the Supers had been forced into retirement, Feliciano's career had come to a sudden end along with it. From what Francis had told him, Feliciano still made a good living designing for a few well know companies, but fame and fortune weren't the same as providing a service to heroes or continuing a family legacy. 

Arthur was quick to grab the briefcase he had tucked under the table and produce the suit from within. The bright blue and red fabric seemed all the more vibrant within the clean white setting of the large dining room and Arthur had to wonder if Feliciano felt just as embarrassed having the tacky old thing attacked to his name as Arthur suddenly did.

Feliciano greeted the old suit like a long lost friend, holding the fabric gently in his hands and heaving a fond sigh as he studied every thread. "Yes, I remember this," he said with a melancholy note in his voice. "Summer 1995." He beamed, running his fingers along the symbol etched into the center of the chest. "Megamesh. Old and outdated, but a strong, sturdy fabric..." A disheartened frown settled onto his features when his gaze finally landed on the gaping hole in the left sleeve. "... and you tore right through it."

"You tore through Megamesh?" Ludwig chimed in, brow arching at the very notion. He motioned for Feliciano to hand the torn suit to him and Arthur couldn't help stiffening as Ludwig's keen eyes studied the frayed fabric. "This was cut, not ripped. What exactly have you been doing that would cause such a hole?"

"Uh, well, o-one of the children must have gotten to it," Arthur stuttered lamely. "You know how clumsy they can be, or you will soon enough anyway, but that's not the point." Arthur turned his attention towards Feliciano, hoping that by ignoring Ludwig and engaging Feliciano he could somehow completely erase the cloud of suspicion that had been cast around him. "I just want to know if _you_ can _fix_ it."

"Ve, well I suppose I can," Feliciano began thoughtfully. "But it would seem like such a waste to turn on the old machines just to patch one little hole." Arthur was about to remind Feliciano that the hole in question was large enough for him to fit most of his arm through, but the way Feliciano's features seemed to brighten halted the words on his lips. It seemed that an idea had formed in the man's head and Arthur hoped that it was something that would be in his benefit. "I know! I will make you a whole new suit!"

Arthur stiffened at the idea. "A new suit?" he repeated. "Feliciano, I don't need a new suit. I only need you to mend a tear."

"But this will be so much better! And this old thing is so... Nineties." 

Before Arthur could think to argue with Feliciano, the man stood and walked out of the room, the costume and his companions completely forgotten. Not wanting to be left alone with Ludwig, Arthur quickly snatched his old Super suit out of his hands and followed after Feliciano. He found him in what must have been the sitting room and saw that he had already managed to find a pad and pencil in the brief moment that he had left Arthur's sight.

"I don't want a new suit," Arthur sighed as he walked into the room. Feliciano didn't respond and seemed to already be far too engrossed in whatever design he had started scribbling into his notepad. "I don't _need_ a new suit. I'm retired, remember?"

"Yet you somehow tore the old one very recently?" Ludwig asked slowly as he entered the room behind Arthur.

Arthur glared at him before marching closer towards Feliciano's side. When he peaked down at the pad and paper he found himself drawn in by the sketch that Feliciano seemed fixated on completing. He liked the sleek, simplistic design of this potential suit and suddenly the notion of a new costume didn't seem quite so absurd. "Then again, since you are offering... How much will this potentially run me?"

"Oh no need to pay me, Arthur," Feliciano chirped dismissively. "If I wanted money, I would have asked Francis to repay me for all the suits I made him years ago."

Arthur cringed at that comment, recalling just how many Super suits Francis had manipulated Feliciano into making for him at the height of his career. They were fortunate that Feliciano was such a kind, giving soul. "Well, since you're so keen on designing a whole new suit how about for this one you finally give me that grappling gun I requested for the utility belt," Arthur suggested as he settled down in a chair beside Feliciano. "And perhaps a nice cape to go with it."

"No capes!" Ludwig barked. The boom of his voice was loud enough to cause both Feliciano and Arthur to flinch and send the dogs into a frantic fit of howls and yaps.

"Excuse me, old man," Arthur put in once he had recovered from the initial shock, "but since this is _my_ suit we're talking about, don't you think _I_ should be the one to have the final say?"

Ludwig huffed, undeterred by Arthur's comment or his haughty tone. "Do you have any idea the number of cape related accidents that befell Supers in the 1980s alone?" he noted. "A number that nearly _tripled_ in the Nineties when _Monsieur Élastique_ reinvigorated the trend among younger Supers?"

"Well I hardly think-"

"Capes can be caught on rockets, missiles, or trip wire and can very easily be grabbed in combat," Ludwig went on. "A Super sporting a cape can be sucked into a jet engine or the vortex of a tornado. The frequency of strangulations alone-"

"Alright, alright!" Arthur huffed warily. "I get the point. No bloody cape."

Feliciano offered him a meek nod before allowing himself to go back to his sketch. 

Arthur sighed as he glanced down at his watch and saw that the day was quickly coming to an end. He felt somewhat relieved to have an excuse to leave. "Well, I have to be heading home," he announced. "When do you think this suit will be finished?"

"Oh not long," Feliciano answered, his eyes never leaving the pad. "Maybe just a day or two."

"And you will be sure to mend the other one as well, right?"

"Of course. I will call you as soon as they are both done."

Arthur nodded, satisfied with the answer. He gave quick farewell to both Feliciano and Ludwig before heading out the door.

\--

Arthur hadn't exactly been expecting the phone call that night, yet for some reason, when he heard the main line chime while he was sitting in his den balancing the check book, he had a strange inkling that this particular call was for him. He called out to Francis and the boys to tell them that he would pick up, before quickly closing the door, locking it, and grabbing the cordless phone on his desk.

"Captain Invincible?" Laurinaitis's familiar nervous quiver greeted him from the other end of the line and Arthur actually felt himself grinning. He should have known that his little adventure wouldn't be the last time he heard from Laurinaitis. Clearly the company was so pleased with his performance that they wanted his services for another mission. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, of course not," Arthur assured him as he allowed a note of smug self confidence to creep into his tone. "What seems to be the matter?"

"I'm afraid we are in need of your services once again," Laurinaitis informed him.

He gave a soft chuckle at that. Just as he had expected. "Same as last time?" he asked in a knowing voice.

"Yes. I'm afraid so," Laurinaitis said sheepishly. "How soon do you think you can get here?"

He hummed, considering his next words carefully. He was suit-less at the moment, but Feliciano had assured him that the new costume would be complete in two days at the most. Worst case scenario, he could always use the older suit since that would likely be finished first. "I can be there by Saturday."

"Very good." There was a strange mixture of relief and exasperation in Laurinaitis's voice, but he was quick to move on. "I'll make the arrangements right away. Someone will meet you at the airport and bring you straight to the facility."

A familiar thrill surged through his body at the prospect of yet another adventure and Arthur felt as if his entire being was buzzing by the time he had gotten off the phone with Laurinaitis. It was a pleasant feeling that didn't last very long as he nearly slammed into Francis, a displeased scowl twisting his features, as soon as he stepped out of his den.

"Francis," Arthur chided as soon as he recovered himself. "What the devil are you doing lurking out in the hall?"

"I am not lurking," Francis said quickly, a tight lipped smile pulling at his face. "I was merely standing out here waiting for you to get off of the phone call that you were so eager to get."

"Oh, was I eager?" Arthur asked in what he hoped was a casual tone. He cleared his throat as he pushed his way past Francis and walked towards their bedroom. "I just wanted to be the one to pick it up since I reasoned you were probably busy with the children or the dishes or some such."

"Some such indeed," Francis huffed as he stepped in front of Arthur, effectively blocking his path. "Just who was it anyway?"

"Work," he answered with surprising ease.

"And what did 'work' want that was important enough to phone you in the middle of the night?"

"It's not the middle of the night! It's barely past six. And if you must know, they're sending me to a conference."

" _Another_ conference?" Francis gaped, spitting the word out as if it's very presence on his tongue caused a vile taste. "What did you tell them?"

"I said I would go," he said in a voice that was firm and unwavering. "I leave this Saturday."

"Why?" Francis barked more than asked as a frantic gleam surfaced in his blue eyes. "Why would they ask you to go so soon after your last trip? Why would you say yes?"

"Maybe because I did so well at the last one," Arthur snapped back. "Maybe because it could mean more money for us."

"I do not want more money."

"Well that's a funny thing to hear from _you_!"

Arthur watched as Francis's face turned bright red at the comment. His cheeks puffed and his nostrils flared with the urge to say more, but his eyes caught something that kept the words trapped in his throat. Arthur twisted around, following Francis's gaze to the twin pairs of blue eyes that were currently watching them from the other end of the hall.

He gave a frustrated as he grabbed Francis by the arm and lead him into their bedroom. Arthur knew it wouldn't help much, the walls were paper thin and it was nearly impossible to whisper without someone catching a word or two, but the bit of privacy that being behind closed doors granted them was good enough. "Francis, I'm-" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"I do not want money," Francis told him. His voice had dropped down to a normal level, but his tone was still pointed and sharp. "I do not care about that. All I want is you, here, with us."

Arthur heaved a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and went to sit down on their bed. The springs creaked from his weight and he suddenly felt very much like them, crushed under a familiar weight that at times felt difficult to hold on to. "You act as if I'm never around. I've been spending plenty of time with you and the children these past few weeks."

"I did not realize that there was a quota on the amount of time you could spend with your family," Francis noted tersely. 

"Fine. I'm a bad father," Arthur huffed, throwing up his arms in defeat. "I'm a terrible husband. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say?"

Francis's gaze softened then, a tender gleam emerging in his eyes that said clearly that Arthur's words had dug in and cut him in a way that he hadn't expected them to. "No," Francis said softly, yet certainly, as he came to sit down beside Arthur. "No, you are not any of those things." He sighed as his shoulders slumped under a weight that Arthur was too familiar with. "Maybe I am the terrible one. Perhaps I am asking too much of you when I am the one who should be a bit more flexible."

"You're not terrible," Arthur assured him, kissing Francis's cheek to emphasize his point. The gesture earned him a slight smile and Arthur was pleased to see it. "And you're not asking too much of me. I promise, no more conferences. This will be the last one."

"Thank you."

\--

Friday seemed to evaporate in a haze and before Arthur knew what had happened, it was Saturday and he found himself kissing Francis and the children goodbye before heading off to the airport. The flight over to the compound seemed much shorter this time around, a fact that had Captain Invincible a bit worried. He wondered if he was getting a bit too used to all this sneaking around and back door dealing. He had to remind himself that this would be his last trip, no matter how much money they threw at his feet.

Laurinaitis did not meet him on the plane as he had on his previous assignment, nor was Invincible briefed midflight. Instead, they landed at a small airbase where he was then lead back into the facility's main offices. It was only then that he met up with Laurinaitis, his nervous smile the first sight to greet him upon arrival.

"Good to see you again, Captain Invincible," he said pleasantly. His eyes briefly trailed up and down Invincible's newly trimmed body now wrapped in his brand new costume. "I like the new suit."

Invincible had to agree that the design of this Super suit was by far superior to his old attire. The costume that Feliciano had designed for him had been finished in less than a day, along with the patched up old costume, and Invincible was grateful that Feliciano had been so eager to get to work on the little project. The new costume featured a deep red body that was accented by navy blue boots and gloves and finished off with an ivory utility belt. The design was sleek and simple and far more intimidating that his vibrant colored nineties attire had been.

He offered Laurinaitis a slight smile. "Thanks," Invincible said. "I see that we're doing things a bit different this time around."

"Ah, well, yes," he confirmed. "My boss wants to brief you personally this time."

His ears perked up at that. The prospect of meeting the man in charge was quite intriguing, but Invincible couldn't shake the feeling that it was all so sudden. After all, he had gone on one assignment and never even heard the man's name and now he was about to come face to face with him. 

_He must have been testing me before,_ he reasoned. _And now that he has a feel for me and knows the quality of my work he wants to become more invested._ The thought put a smile on his face and he felt himself walking a bit taller as Laurinaitis led him down a sleek white corridor lined with narrow doors. 

"He will meet with you in conference room 13A and from there you will go on your assignment," Laurinaitis explained as he walked on ahead of him.

"And the nature of this assignment?" Invincible ventured.

"You will find out in just a minute," was his dismissive response and Invincible felt his stomach tighten just a bit. He pushed the thought aside, because Laurinaitis didn't strike him as a dangerous type. He seemed timid and easily startled the type who would be unable to jay walk without being overcome with guilt. Clearly his old sense of paranoia was creeping back into him. "Well, here we are," Laurinaitis announced as they came to a halt at the very end of the hall. 

The door looked identical to all the others save for the silver 13A set on its face, but what struck Invincible was the lack of a proper knob. He watched as Laurinaitis pressed his palm against a small sensor on the adjacent wall and soon the door slid open like something out of a science fiction film.

"Good luck," Laurinaitis said, smiling his nervous smile, as he motioned for Invincible to step inside. He did and as soon as he was in the conference room, he heard the door hiss shut behind him.

The room was large, white, and clean, just like everywhere else in the building. There was a large wooden table surrounded by a dozen black plastic chairs, polished linoleum floors, and white windowless walls. It reminded him painfully of something he might have seen inside of Insuricare, only much cleaner and with better lighting. Invincible couldn't help but frown at the large R -- sharp, almost jagged in appearance -- that decorated the top of the wooden table. As he gazed at it, he realized that many of the guards and workers he had encountered had been wearing a similar R somewhere on their attire and Invincible suddenly wondered what it stood for.

His thoughts went scrambling to a sudden halt as a deep, thundering thud greeted his ears and the floor beneath him began to shake. Invincible felt his whole body stiffen as the walls trembled momentarily, before falling way like poker cards carelessly stacked together. Once the walls had collapsed around him, a giant black metal claw came into view and Invincible instantly recognized it as one of the Omnidroid's tentacle like arms.

He didn't have much time for the sheer impossibility of that thought to sink in before the metal claw lunged at him and Invincible dove away, allowing the arm to impale only wall. Another arm came to greet him, snagging Invincible by the legs before he could recover himself and he was soon pulled out of the room and thrown into the jungle. Pain flared up inside of him as he came crashing face first into the trunk of a large tree. The tree cracked and splintered on impact, but Invincible soon found himself being dragged away and tossed aside once again as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. This time he landed flat on his back and was greeted only by hard ground and bits of rock, but that didn't stop the shooting pain from feeling like fire on the inside. A strangled cry escaped his lips as the clawed hand wrapped itself around his body and hoisted him into the air.

His head was spinning, his mind was reeling, and before he could even get a handle on the situation he found himself staring into the Omnidroid's red eye like scope as twin claws twisting like buzz saws came ever closer to his throat. Invincible flinched, squirmed and tried with all of his might to fight his way out of the iron grasp.

Yet just as quickly as they had started, the spinning blades slowed to a halt and Invincible watched as the Omnidroid's camera dulled slightly before his eyes.

"Okay, that will be enough for now," a far too friendly voice said as a tall figure casually approached from within the depths of the jungle. 

The man was dressed in a pristine white costume with matching boots, gloves and utility belt as a long silver cape fluttered in the wind behind him. A deep red mask sat over the top of his face, giving his eyes an eerily demonic gleam that was only emphasized by the pleasant smile playing at his lips. Yet what struck Invincible more than anything was the large red R set in the middle of the man's chest, one that seemed similar the R on the conference table and the uniforms around the compound, only now it was offset by a gleaming silver sickle that was laid on top of it as if the blade were ready to slice the R in half. He knew then that this was the master mind behind this whole operation.

"How do you like my new friend, Captain Invincible?" the man asked, the smile never leaving his face. "He is latest model. I had to make a number of improvements after you destroy last one, but it was worth it, da? After all, watching you work has always been lifelong dream of mine."

It was the accent more than anything that brought the memories flooding back to him. He had met this man before, as a mere child eagerly trying to be by his side, and Invincible shuddered to see that the sweet faced little boy had grown into a monster. "Ivan?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper, but somehow Ivan heard him.

Ivan's face twisted for just a moment, as if something bitter had settled onto his tongue, but it was quickly smoothed away by another pleasant smile. "Sorry, but that's wrong," he tutted. Ivan pressed a button along his wrist and Invincible found himself released from the Omnidroid's hooks. He came crashing several feet down to the ground, landing not on his feet, but his tender sides and Invincible was embarrassed to admit that a groan escaped him upon impact. "I have not gone by that name in long time, but it is good of you to remember."

"Wh-what is this?" Invincible stammered as he scrambled to his feet. "What have you done?"

"This is project of mine," Ivan explained as he waved his arms grandly to gesture towards the island, the facility, and the massive robot perched above them. "I had always wanted to live in place like this: warm and sunny year round. It is perfect place to start a business, and it is all thanks to you, Captain Invincible."

"Me?" he gaped. "What did I-"

"Let me tell you story about lonely little boy," Ivan cut in suddenly, a sharp, bitter note crawling in his voice beneath the friendly tone. "Little Ivan Braginski did not have many friends growing up. The children in school did not understand him and animals did not seem to take well to him either. One day, Ivan was watching the news and saw a Super named Captain Invincible. Invincible was loner, just like Ivan, but he seemed to enjoy it, take pleasure in the absence of others, grow stronger because of it and that made Ivan feel better about himself. Ivan thought to himself 'I will be just like Captain Invincible' and that was what Ivan tried to do.

"But you see, Ivan was not a Super. He was an ordinary human and others laughed at him when he told them about his dream to become Captain Invincible's First Mate. 'Surely Captain Invincible will be different,' Ivan told himself. 'Surely Captain Invincible will understand.' And then, one magical day, Ivan actually met Captain Invincible and Invincible looked into Ivan's bright shining face and saw... nothing. He treated Ivan just like anyone else at that convention and greeted the boy with a sarcastic smile when he spoke of being his sidekick.

"Ivan did not give up. He decided to continue following Captain Invincible and try to join him on one of his adventures, certain that if he could prove himself Invincible will accept him. But he did not. 'I work alone,' Invincible told him with a sneer and, try as he might, Ivan could not get Invincible to see him as anything more than a stupid child.

"Now, Ivan is dead and I, Red Sickle, have become everything he could not be: strong, admired, and, soon, beloved."

Invincible blinked, gaping in disbelief at what he was hearing. "Ivan I... I'm sorry," he stammered at last. "I was wrong. I was a different man-"

"Too late for sorry," Ivan put in, his voice like an icy chill running down Invincible's spine. He lifted his hand and pressed another button and soon a single beam of light emerged, surrounding Invincible's body. He didn't know what it was or how Ivan was doing it, but suddenly his entire body was immobilized and Invincible found that he could do little more than blink. Ivan flicked his wrist and Invincible soon found himself being hurled into a tree, before being flung into the air, before being slammed into the ground.

His bones did not break, but his body felt battered and bruised and alight with pain. His head was spinning, swimming, and he didn't even register that he had been flung through the air over several miles until he came crashing down into a large lake.

At that moment he was eternally grateful to Francis for teaching him to swim (although, at the time, his frustrated cries of "just kick your damn chicken legs!" had been less than encouraging) because it was only thanks to those lessons that he was able to regain his bearings even while completely submerged. However, his steady paddling towards the surface was interrupted when he saw something small and white drop into the waters before him. The red light on its face flashing steadily was enough to tell Invincible that it was a bomb he was looking at and he was quick to swim away.

His frantic kicks and paddles were not enough to bridge a sizable distance and Invincible soon found himself caught at the very edge of the explosion. The water churned and bubbled around him, his skin felt hot and cold all at once, and before he knew it he was being pushed out towards the surface and into a small cavern. 

He breathed deep, greedy gulps of breath, feeling every ache and bruise on his flesh and he scrambled out of the water and onto dry land. 

Invincible's head was still spinning as he tried desperately to piece together what had just transpired. It was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that he was currently being hunted down like a wild beast because he had rejected a lonely boy's bid for friendship fifteen years ago. It was a cruel twist of fate to be sure, one that could very well cost him his life if he didn't regain his wits.

The cave was cold and wet and Invincible found himself shivering as crawled along the uneven surface. His sharp eyes slowly began to adjust to the darkness. A gentle light seeped in from some unknown hole in the cavern, bouncing off the waters and reflecting against the smooth walls. It was only because of this light that Invincible was able to see the pile of bones that had once been a man. 

Most of the bones and been fractured or broken, the flesh had been picked off or rotted away a long time ago, and the few strips of fabric that lung to the corpse hung on in deteriorating strips. Yet the soft blue and navy colored garb was still held together well enough for Invincible to recognize it as Stonewall's old suit. His insides twisted, chilled at the very sight. Apparently this was where Berwald Oxenstierna had disappeared to.

_I wasn't the first,_ Invincible thought bitterly. _Ivan... Red Sickle... He's done this before._

Invincible felt a slight sting in the back of his eyes. He thought about the newspaper article from so long ago, about the family that Oxenstierna had left behind and how they had pleaded desperately for his safe return.

"You were a great man," Invincible found himself whispering as his fingers brushed against the pile of bones. "You will be missed."

It was only then that he noticed the way Stonewall's body had been laid. He was slumped over a sharp rock, likely having used the sturdy surface for support, but his fingers were stretched out as if reaching towards something. No, not reaching exactly... Invincible frowned, gazing closely at the ground beneath him and saw that Stonewall had used the last of his strength to carve something into the rocky surface beneath them.

_Winter_

Invincible didn't have much time to reflect on what the message could have meant, because his eyes soon detected a slight movement coupled with a deep red flash. A smooth, white machine floated through the air, hovering around the cave as if in search of something.

He scrambled away, ducking down low to the ground and using Stonewall's battered corpse for cover. The machine hovered towards him and Invincible watched as its red sensors passed over the pile of bones in front of him. The machine hummed then, as if to say that it was satisfied with the information collected, and began to float away.

Invincible allowed himself to breathe a heavy sigh, despite the knowledge that he was still in grave danger.


	7. Marital Rescue

Francis didn't feel one ounce of guilt at what he was about to do. In fact, his actions felt completely justified. After all, Arthur was the one who had the audacity to lock his den before going away to his conference and as far as Francis was concerned, such an action was an invitation, a dare for him to break in and that's exactly what his husband did not want him to see.

The boys were out back playing, Angelique was napping in her playpen, and Francis was busy "vacuuming" in the hall. It was only fair to tidy up in the den while he was at it and if he had to stretch out his arm to reach underneath the crack in the door and then twist the knob open from the other side to do so, then so be it.

_Silly man. Have you not learned that there is no lock that can keep me out?_

As always, the air inside the den was stuffy and smelled heavily of old newspapers and spilt beer (with a faint hint of smoke that Francis certainly didn't recall being there before). He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the odor and quickly went about "cleaning."

His first instinct was to check the drawers of the desk and he was rewarded with yet another lock put on the very top drawer. He frowned as he gave the handle one good tuck, just to be sure that it was not jammed, before flattening his index finger and slipping it inside of the key hole. Francis hadn't picked a lock in quite a few years, so it took a little longer than he would have liked before the distinct sound of a metal click filled the room.

Pulling open the drawer, he was quick to set about rummaging around inside, yet what he found was not at all startling. His eyes were greeted by the sight of dozens of receipts, paper work for the newly purchased cars, and a few pens that all seemed to have run out of ink. He was about to move on to another drawer, but his gaze soon settled on Arthur's checkbook and Francis wondered if the bank notes would provide him with any valuable information. 

It did.

Francis felt his breath catch in his throat when his saw the digits printed out within the books, the sheer amount of numbers too much for the balance slot to hold. It had been fifteen years since he had seen a bank account with so many funds in it and the idea that all of that money was currently connected to his name was more troubling than exciting. Flipped past the series of recent purchases, Francis found that a large deposit had been made some time after Arthur's first conference.

_It is too much to be a bonus. And he did not put 'Insuricare' in the notes._

A thoughtful frown settled on his features as he placed the checkbook back into the drawer. It was clear to him now that he was dealing with something more serious than an affair.

He dug through the trash bin in the hopes of finding any more clues to their sudden wealth, but found nothing except empty protein bar wrappers and sticky notes with things like 'buy milk' and 'pick up dry cleaning' written on them. Clearly anything incriminating had been thrown out with the trash earlier in the week.

Francis was reluctant to give up, because he felt certain that Arthur had left some sort of detail out of place that would alert him to his wrong doings. His eyes began to roam around the tiny, windowless room, peering at the framed newspaper clips, the old posters, and magazine covers fixed to the walls. His gaze eventually settled on Arthur's old Super suit and for some reason, it was only then that he realized that something about it was off.

For one thing, there were finger print marks on the glass. It shouldn't have been an unusual sight if it weren't for the fact that Francis knew without a doubt that Arthur never actually touched the glass case surrounding his old costume, only stared at it with sad wistful eyes as he reminisced about the glory days. Yet more startling than that minor detail was the strange line that had been etched into the shoulder. Francis frowned as he gazed at the sky blue fabric and the patch of thread that covered what had clearly been a tear. It was a recent mending, Francis was certain of it, because that suit had been in near perfect condition when it had been packed away.

Clearly Arthur had dragged Feliciano in on whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

\--

 

The first thing Invincible did after the explosion was sleep, because he needed his rest in order to get his healing factor to kick in. He slept fitfully and briefly, the damp cavern proving to be a poor, if practical, choice for shelter. Yet after a few hours of shut eye, he emerged into the gloom of the thicket of trees feeling stronger and clearer and ready to find a way off of this rock.

Invincible couldn't remember feeling more desperate to see his family. Even while he crept through the jungle, moving quickly yet quietly as he searched for the main facility, his thoughts kept drifting back to the faces of Francis and the children. A part of him felt certain that he would never see them again, because he had stupidly gotten himself in way over his head and was dealing with what appeared to be a megalomaniac of his own creation. In that same instant, a bigger part of him kept making promises to give each and every one of them a loving hug when he did see their precious faces and promising nothing short of absolute honesty from then on. And then he would give his mother a call and tell her just how much he loved and treasured her and apologize for not visiting enough. And perhaps he would ring up his brothers...

No, he wouldn't go that far.

His feet came to a slow halt on the deep grass when he saw it, a long thin white beam peeking out from the tangled mass of low branches and high bushes. He inched his way closer, pushing past leaf and twig to find what appeared to be a monorail track running along the mountain range. A shrill whizzing greeted his ears and Invincible looked up to see an oblong shaped white cart moving along the track. A minute passed before another one came, followed by another just a minute later.

He nodded to himself as he fumbled for the grappling gun fixed to his utility belt. Invincible knew that he would have to be precise, because standing in the open firing multiple shots was a great way to get himself caught. He aimed his weapon, holding his arms level and steady as he took a deep breath and slowly released it. The whizzing sound grew louder in his ears and he silently counted _One... two... three..._ before squeezing the trigger as soon as the egg like cart came round the track. 

The tug of his tether was the only thing to alert him to the success of his shot and Invincible held on tight as he was pulled along with the carriage. He reeled himself in, his vision consumed by little more than a whirl of colors as the roaring wind blocked out all other noise. When he reached the cart's smooth white surface, he landed with a heavy thud, one that he purposely exaggerated by giving its sides a good kick. 

A masked head soon peeked out in order to inspect the source of the noise, just as Invincible had expected, and he was quick to grab the man by his neck and toss him towards the slopping hill sided whooshing past them before slipping into the carriage to take his seat. Another guard was waiting for him inside and the man had his weapon trained on him just as Invincible's fist met his lips. A shot was fired, but it went wide and Invincible was quick to shove the man's slack frame out of the cart as well. 

He rode inside the carriage and found that there were no controls, no seat belts within its equally smooth compartments. There was only a dashboard displaying their current speed and a friendly plaque above the windshield instructing riders to keep their limbs inside while the vehicle was in motion. Invincible rolled his eyes at the sight as he followed the line of the tracks and saw that he was no heading _into_ the mountain. Darkness soon consumed the cabin, but it lasted only a moment as the right side of his view was soon greeted by the sight of a wide window displaying what looked to be an airplane hangar. 

_Perfect. Perhaps I can sneak aboard one of those jets and... Dear Lord that's a rocket._

A slight chill welled up inside of him at the sight of the large, looming cylinder set on the launch pad while dozens of white coated workers prepared it for heaven knows what. Clearly Ivan... Red Sickle was more than just a scorned child with a grudge and as the sole Super on the island, Invincible knew that it was up to him to find out whatever the man was planning and put an end to it.

_Looks like I won't be heading home after all._

\--

Francis didn't waste time in contacting Feliciano about Arthur's suit, but found the chipper young man a poor source of information. Feliciano was not tight lipped, if anything he had been, in fact, a bit too eager and willing to speak when Francis had called him out of the blue for seemingly no reason at all. In a rush of breath Feliciano had rattled off a series of words that hadn't made very much sense to Francis. All that he had gathered from the conversation was that Feliciano had something he desperately wanted to show him and that Francis should come by as soon as possible.

Eager to uncover the source of this mystery, Francis had left the boys in charge of Angelique (the two were more than capable of looking after one baby for a few hours) before heading off to Feliciano's estate. He was greeted by the usual sights and sounds upon his arrival -- Ludwig grilling him at the front gate, the dogs barking frantically when he pulled up to the door, Feliciano's vice like hug upon entering -- but unlike every other visit, Francis found himself unamused by it all. His mind was focused on one thing only and all he wanted was to ask about Arthur.

Yet every time he began to speak, Feliciano was quick to interrupt with some question about the children or pasta and Francis was finding his patience quickly fading with every passing second.

"More wine, Francis?" Feliciano asked him with a bottle already in hand and by his side.

Francis sighed and offered him his empty glass despite the little voice in the back of his mind whispering that he shouldn't drink so early in the day. Yet the soothing buzz from the alcohol helped to ease the jittery feelings inside of him. He supposed this was what Arthur had felt during his days of packing down can after can of beer each night.

"So tell me, Francis, what was more exciting for you: having the twins or adopting the baby?"

Francis hummed, took a sip from his glass, and considered the question. "Well, I suppose that both were a bit exciting in their own way," he admitted truthfully, "but having the twins was a bit more terrifying than thrilling since it was our first time being parents. With Angelique I did less work and knew just what to expect."

A soft little sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, escaped Feliciano's lips and Francis couldn't help but be reminded of Arthur just before the twins had been born. Once they had been relocated and settled into their new lives in retirement, Arthur had allowed himself to simply enjoy the mounting thrill that went along with expecting children for the first time. Francis on the other hand had been more like Ludwig was now, a jittery bundle of nerves beside himself with worry as he wondered just what sort of father he would be. He imagined that Ludwig, much like himself, hadn't pictured fatherhood in his future and was currently trying to reach out to his brother whenever Feliciano's exuberance became too much.

_At least he has someone that will listen,_ Francis thought morosely as he took another sip of his wine.

He had tried to reach out to his parents several times before the twins were born, because he needed to talk to _someone_ who had been in his shoes before in order to feel reassured that what he was feeling was natural. They had, however, been adamant in their decision to lock him out of their lives and all of his calls had gone unanswered.

Francis made to take another sip of his drink, but it was only when he brought the glass to his lips that he realized there was nothing left. Feliciano grabbed the bottle once more, but when he made to refill him, Francis was quick to move his glass away. "Feliciano, cher," Francis began, hoping to shift the visit back in the direction he needed it to be, "when we spoke on the phone earlier you had mentioned wanting to show me something."

Feliciano's features brightened as realization quickly dawned upon him. "Vee! That's right." He quickly finished off the rest of his own wine before turning towards Ludwig. "Is everything ready downstairs?"

Francis felt his ears perk up at the question, because they were currently on the ground floor and he hadn't even realized that there was a lower level to the estate. Although, given the size of the property, Francis supposed he should have expected as much.

"Ja, all set up," Ludwig said with a sharp nod. "Whenever you are ready."

"Perfect!" Feliciano cheered, practically beaming as he spoke. He grabbed Francis's hand in his and offered his fingers a firm, yet insistent tug as he made to stand. "Let's go downstairs so I can show you."

Francis followed Feliciano and Ludwig towards the eastern wing of the manor, down a corridor he could not remember ever seeing before. The dogs, who had been eagerly following at their heels, were all shooed away when they reached what seemed to be a dead end. Feliciano pressed his bare palm against a small gray scanner mounted against the flat white wall which caused a happy little chime to sound and Francis soon found himself watching as the wall opened up before his eyes, revealing a staircase that disappeared down into a waiting darkness.

"This is the basement," Feliciano explained as he began descending the stairs a step at a time. Francis followed behind him as Ludwig brought up the rear. The metal steps below their feet created a deep echoing noise that made Francis's insides knot with dread and in the dim, ominous room, and he suddenly wished he'd drank a bit more wine. "We moved all of Grandpa's equipment down here."

"Roman Warrior's equipment?" Francis asked with a shudder. 

Much like his brother and their parents, Feliciano had been born powerless, despite being the grandson of the world's first Superhero. It was a discovery that had come as a shock and disappointment to many who saw it as a sign that the Warrior line would come to a sudden end. Yet even though Feliciano had not inherited the Super gene, his grandfather did give him possession of most of the equipment that he had used to make some of the first Superhero costumes. Back then, Super Suits had been flashy and stylish, but hardly practical. It was only when Feliciano had teamed up with Iron Eagle that the designs started to improve. Iron Eagle's keen talent with machines had allowed him to upgrade the equipment and make Suits that would be practical as well as fashionable.

Francis knew that Feliciano had kept his old equipment after the government had cracked down on Super and that he was currently under the strict command never to supply a Super with a suit ever again, but the idea that they were going to see the old machinery made his insides grow cold. He wondered what this had to do with Arthur, with him, and a headache was soon building behind his eyes.

Feliciano flipped a few switches and the basement was soon flooded with light. Francis found that the lower levels of the estate did not resemble a traditional basement in anyway. It seemed more like the inside of a warehouse or the testing facility of manufacturing plant. The room was split in half, divided by a thick pane of glass that Francis recognized as being bullet proof from the slight distortion around the edges. The other side of the glass didn't seem to hold anything special as only empty space greeted Francis's eyes. Their side held two chairs flanking a small coffee table situated a few feet away from the glass partition and -- towards the far end of the room -- there was what appeared to be a control panel complete with a series of buttons and switches. The rest of the room was taken up by Super suits that had been completed, but never sold, on display behind glass cases, while more note worthy designs -- likely ripped straight out of one of Feliciano's sketch books -- were hung in frames along the deep gray walls.

This wasn't the full basement. Francis could tell right away from the fact that none of the old Super suit making equipment was in sight and that knowledge made him breathe easy. Yet when he glanced at an old midnight black and navy blue suit, that looked suspiciously like something he had once requested but never received, his insides felt jittery once more.

"All set Ludwig?" Feliciano asked as he walked casually over towards the coffee table, taking a seat on the right chair.

Ludwig went to stand behind the control panel and flipped a few switches when he got there. The lights in the sealed off room brightened and Francis heard a mechanical, winding noise that told him that something had started up. "Whenever you are ready," Ludwig said again.

"Perfect," Feliciano sang out merrily and Francis marveled when he produced another bottle of dolcetto and two more glasses out of thin air. "Would you like some more wine, Francis?" he asked as he motioned for Francis to seat himself in the vacant chair.

"Do I need more?" Francis asked with a skeptic laugh as he settled into chair beside the smaller man.

Once he sat, waving off the glass Feliciano offered him, the lights behind them began to dim and a door slid open on the their end of the sealed off room. His stomach tightened as a polished, silver mannequin in the shape of an infant emerged wearing what appeared to be a red bodysuit with dark blue trim.

"We started with the baby's suit," Feliciano announced.

"Baby?" Francis echoed. His words were quickly cut off when the mannequin began to move, its chubby little arms and legs swinging back and forth in a simulated crawl, and their chairs soon began moving with it, sliding sideways along some unseen conveyor belt.

"The cut is roomy for free movement and the fabric is comfortable for sensitive skin," Feliciano rambled on.

The moment his sentence came to an end, the infant sized mannequin was soon engulfed in an intense fire that had swallowed the entire blocked off room. Francis flinched in his seat, his heart slamming against his chest and his skin tingling.

"It is also able to withstand temperatures of up to one thousand degrees," Ludwig announced and soon the flames settled away into nothing. Once the fire was extinguished a set of mounted machine guns emerged from the floors and began rattling bullets at the chrome mannequin's little body. "Completely bullet proof..."

"... and machine washable," Feliciano finished in a content chirp. "Nearly stain resistant too. Any little baby messes will come right off in the wash."

The guns stopped firing and soon disappeared down below. Another door opened and the infant sized mannequin disappeared from sight. The chairs came to a slow halt and Francis felt as if his insides had turned to jelly as the recent images flickered through his mind. "Wh-why the _hell_ would my baby need a bullet proof _anything_?" he half asked half snarled as he turned to glare at Feliciano.

Feliciano flinched at the sight of his tense figure and flashing eyes and only babbled uselessly in response.

"Well, we weren't certain what the baby's powers were so we decided to cover the basics," Ludwig explained and Francis found his voice far too nonchalant for his liking.

"Angelique is adopted," he explained as he twisted around in his chair in order to pin his gaze on the tall blond standing behind the control panel. "She is completely normal and does not have any powers."

A sheepish look appeared on Ludwig's face for just a moment, but it was gone in a flash and replaced by a thoughtful hum. "Well, we do not know what the future holds," he muttered before pressing a few more buttons on the panel.

Francis soon found himself fumbling in his seat as the chair quickly slid back to the other side of the room and a new mannequin emerged from behind the hidden door. This one was larger, child sized, and was wearing a more complicated red body suit with a bright white "I" set upon the chest and dark blue gloves and boots. The child mannequin's arms and legs were moving so rapidly that Francis's eyes could barely keep up with them and he knew right away this costume was meant for Alfred. 

Once again their chairs began to move along with the mannequin, which slid by at a surprisingly slow pace despite the rapid movements it was mimicking.

"We designed your first son's outfit to withstand an enormous amount of friction without heating up or wearing thin," Ludwig went on, his voice booming steadily in the background.

The second mannequin disappeared so quickly that Francis could barely wrap his mind around it and he soon found himself being flung to the side once more as yet another suit emerged. This mannequin, Mathieu's, was around the same size as Alfred's but the boots and gloves were higher and featured a strip of white along the trim. Unlike the other two, the arms and limbs did not move and the mannequin stayed in a steady pose as its lifeless frame floated along the conveyor belt. 

"The other boy's suit was tricky," Feliciano announced between sips of wine, "but we were able to design something that could disappear like he could." Two large metal bulbs dropped down from the ceiling and settled onto either side of the mannequin. The bulbs began to hum, vibrating at some strange frequency which resulted in the suit disappearing completely from sight. "It is very nice, yes?" he asked as the bulbs shut down, retracting into the ceiling and causing the suit to reappear. "I added the extra white so the boys would not worry about matching too completely."

Francis did little more than hum as they were jerked to the side of the room one last time. Another costume appeared, this one his, and in many ways it was like a larger version of the boys' costume only the boots went up to his knees and the neckline on the collar plunged a bit lower. Yet what struck him the most was that the emblem on his chest was no longer his own and seemed more like a reproduction of Arthur's old logo.

"Your suit was easier," Feliciano explained as the arms and legs of the costume were pulled and twisted like kneaded dough. "We used the same type of fabric that your old costumes were made from, but added a few new features."

"New features?" Francis ventured, only to find two mounted missiles appearing out of the ground and firing directly at the chest. The ground shook, his ears rang, and when the cloud of dust within the portioned off room cleared, Francis saw that the suit was still very much intact.

"Along with being able to bend and flex into any shape, the fabric is nearly indestructible," Ludwig explained. 

Once the suit had disappeared and the chairs had settled into the western end of the basement Ludwig walked over to Francis's side and deposited a small remote into his lap. "Each suit also contains a homing device which will allow you to know the precise location of the wearer at the touch of a button."

"So Francis, what do you think?" Feliciano asked merrily, his voice and demeanor begging for approval even though he was already celebrating his accomplishment on his own. "Aren't they all snazzy? So much hipper than the old designs. And the children's costumes are so cute, right? Right?"

If Francis felt anything it was numb and in that moment all he found himself able to do was stare down at the remote in his lap. What Feliciano was saying... what he had done... It was illegal, irresponsible, and if Arthur was involved in any of this... The room suddenly seemed very small and sweltering.

"What do I think?" Francis whispered, his voice quivering slightly as he spoke. "What do I _think_? I think you just made war suits for _babies_! I think that you are both breaking the law just by showing me this! I think that you are forgetting the very important fact that my husband and I are both retired! And why the hell does _my_ suit have _his_ symbol? I am _not_ Mrs. Invincible!"

Once again Feliciano flinched away from him, turning into a quivering bowl of jelly in the face of his mounting anger, and Francis realized that somewhere in the middle of his speech he had stood from his chair and was currently looming over poor Feliciano. "Well, you see since there are five of you I decided to make all the suits match and... Well 'The Invincibles' sounds better than 'Les Élastiques.'"

"Wait a minute. You made five suits?" Francis asked slowly. "You only showed me four."

He flinched slightly when Ludwig's large hand settled upon his shoulder, his grip firm and forceful as he directed Francis's attention away from Feliciano. "Your husband came by on Thursday with a project for Feliciano," Ludwig explained.

"That's right," Feliciano jumped in. "He wanted me to repair a hole in his old costume, but when I thought about turning on the old equipment for just a patch job I thought it was a waste of time, so I suggested that I make him a whole new costume and he said okay, but when I started making it the costume came out so nicely that I just had to make more so I decided to create suits for the whole family, because if Arthur needed his then I figured that you would probably need one too and the idea of making suits for the babies was just so cute and..."

"You mean Arthur asked you to make him a new suit?" Francis cut in, because that was the most important issue at hand. "Wh-why would he... what would he need it for?"

"That's a good question," Ludwig hummed in mock thoughtfulness as he once again drew Francis's gaze. "Tell me something Francis: where is Arthur now?"

"Where is he?" His lips felt positively numb as he repeated the question and Ludwig's intense blue eyes were starting to make him sweat. "He... he is at a conference."

"A conference where?"

Francis found his throat impossibly dry at the sudden realization that he didn't know. He had never thought to ask, had never received as much as a hotel number, and he felt incredibly stupid for being so gullible.

Ludwig's frown deepened as he no doubt guessed the reason for Francis's silence. He grabbed the small remote that had clattered to the floor during their discussion and dropped it into Francis's hand. "Where is your husband, Francis?"

Francis looked at Feliciano's vacant gaze, Ludwig's heavy frown, and then the remote's smooth black surface. A little red button stared up at him at the base of the control, beckoning to him press it and find the answer that he was not ready to hear.

\--

The conference room. 

The conference room. 

The conference room.

That was the sole thought pounding through Invincible's head as he kept sprinted down the polished white halls of the main facility. Hiding in plain sight was a foolish thing to do, but with most of the island no doubt assuming that he was dead -- and those few guards that he had run into incapacitated -- Invincible felt certain that no one would be looking for him, which would decrease his chances of being caught. Not that it mattered, because his mind was set on finding the private office where he had met with Laurinaitis after "dismantling" the Omnidroid for the first time. The image of the paneled walls sliding open still sat clearly in his mind and he felt certain that something important was waiting for him in there.

Invincible skidded to a halt, his heavy blue boots squeaking against the tiles as he arrived at his destination. He waited a moment, listening for any noise on the other side of the door. A pointed stillness greeted his ears and Invincible soon twisted the knob open and pressed into the room slow and steady, in order to peek inside. Emptiness greeted him and he crept inside and straight for the paneled wall.

His gloved palm pressed itself flat against the wall and its smooth white surface. He could see the juncture where the wall pulled away, but he couldn't see just how to get it opened.

With an impatient sigh, he began curling his hand into a fist, intent on smashing his way through, but soon found his ears greeted by the sound of footsteps. Footsteps that were approaching from the other side of the wall.

He scrambled away, ducking behind a file cabinet in the corner of the room as the wall slipped open and a young man emerged. It was Laurinaitis. He recognized him from the shoulder length brown hair and the slight tremble in his walk, but Laurinaitis was too distracted by the papers in his hand to spot Invincible and that allowed for him to slip behind his back and into the opened wall. 

The wall slid shut as soon as Invincible was on the other side and he soon found himself in what had to be the strangest room he had ever encountered. It was large, perhaps the size of two stadiums stacked on top of one another, and even in the heavy darkness Invincible could detect from the sense of vertigo currently attempting to overwhelm him that the single walkway flanked by a track of light was suspended in midair. He hummed curiously to himself before walking forward towards what seemed to be a large control panel.

Invincible sat down heavily in the metal chair positioned in front of the keyboard before tapping experimentally at the large "Enter" key. Suddenly the wall in front of him flooded with a piercing gray glow that made his eyes sting at the very sight. His entire field of vision was taken up by the light and Invincible quickly realized that he was looking at a massive computer screen. He groaned as the word "Password" sat in front of his eyes in enormous block letters.

He hummed to himself as he remembered Stonewall's cryptic message. He punched in the word "Winter" and upon hitting "Enter" found the screen shifting once more.

A series of images flashed before him and the computer began retrieving information that had been accessed most recently. He watched as plans for the Omnidroid -- its design, its structure, its past models -- began emerging along the colossal monitor. He clicked passed them, but stopped when he saw an incredibly old image of a familiar face suspended next to the original Omnidroid's model. A silver suited youth, with sad violet eyes hidden underneath a heavy gray mask and framed by soft white hair stared back at him and Invincible felt his heart rise and fall when the bright red letters spelling out "TERMINATED" appeared under his image. Ice Glaze had been little more than a child when the Supers had gone under, yet it seemed Red Sickle had lured him into the slaughter without remorse.

He tapped another key and a new face appeared; this one of a beautiful woman with a stern gaze whose long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He recognized her as Iron Oar and saw from the files that she too had been killed by one of the earlier Omnidriods.

A dozen more images began flashing by his eyes, a dozen more faces that he recognized from the past -- Norse Star, Caribbean Crusher, Black Jackal, Black Axe, Bulgarian Bullet -- were all labeled as having been terminated. It seemed that a few had managed to dismantle a model or two, but the next version had obviously proven too great for them all.

Invincible felt dizzy. His insides turned cold and heavy, because the blood of so many had spilled onto his hands without his knowledge. It was bad enough that he had been the one to force these men and women into retirement, now he saw that his foolish actions had also gotten many of his fellows Supers killed.

A strange quiver ran through his heart as a horrifying thought swam into his head. 

_Francis._

He quickly typed in the name "Monsieur Élastique" and watched with a knotted stomach as a picture of a much younger Francis  all suave smile and glimmering blue eyes -- flashed onto the screen. He felt the tension instantly evaporate within him when he saw the words "UNKNOWN" appear next to Monsieur Élastique's current location. Apparently Ivan, like the rest of the world, had never figured out that he and Élastique were an item, or had not bothered to look into the other Super's location.

Another thought occurred to him, and Invincible soon typed in "Awesome Eagle" and then "El Infierno." He did not care Francis's friends, but he didn't exactly want to see either of them murdered by a mad man. Yet, if this display screen was accurate then Gilbert would be safe for now, but Antonio was in very real danger.

He typed in his own name and saw, just as he suspected, that the files had listed him as having been terminated after dismantling the previous Omnidroid. Yet the image didn't stop there and he was soon treated to the sight of the next phase of Red Sickle's plan, which included launching the Omnidroid into a city and having the machine run amok.

Invincible decided then that he had seen more than enough. He now knew what Red Sickle had done, what he was planning, and knew that he had to stop him. He pushed himself away from the control panel, determined to find some way of deactivating either the Omnidroid or the rocket that would transport it, but found that he couldn't get very far.

He had only taken one step towards the door when it happened: a piercing chime cut through the stillness of the room as a small light emerged in the darkness. He looked down at his chest and saw, to his horror, that both the light and the chime had emerged from his suit.

Light flooded the once darkened room and a louder, more intense wail soon drowned at the chipper chime. Invincible took off in a sprint, knowing right away that it was already too late.

\--

The bottle of merlot was empty, the sound of its glass base hitting the smooth surface of the table the only sound audible in the room, save for the hitched uneven sobs currently bubbling from Francis's lips. His head was swimming, his heart was aching, and oh dear _God_ he needed an entire vineyard worth of wine to ease the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach.

Gino crawled into his lap, offering Francis a sympathetic "meow," as Feliciano handed him yet another tissue. He took it gratefully, wiping furiously at the steady flow of tears pouring from his eyes, because at the moment he was at a complete and utter loss as to what else to do.

He had called Insuricare and discovered that Arthur had lied, _lied_ , because he had been fired two months ago and -- according to Ludwig's little tracking device -- was currently on some microscopic island in the middle of the south Pacific doing something no doubt stupid and incredibly wreck less. He had left him, left _them_ , in some half mad half insane and completely pathetic attempt to relive his past and... and...

"He is a fool!" Francis found himself blubbering as he tossed his thoroughly dampened tissue aside. "He is an idiot! I would have let him have me every day every night in every imaginable way! My body was _putty_ in his hands, ready to be molded into any shape he desired! I gave him children, _children_ , cooked him fabulous meals kept a clean... ish home, but it was not enough! No. _No_! He would rather _die_ than be with me, be with _us_!" The hiccupping sobs building in the back of his throat quickly consumed Francis's words and he found that he could do no more than whimper a pathetic "What do I do?" into his tear soaked palms.

The heavy _boom_ of a fist slamming down mere inches from him was enough to cause Francis to sit up straight in his chair as Gino scrambled out of his lap. He looked up at Ludwig and saw that the man was now glowering down at him with a mixture of disappointment and disgust glowing in his blue eyes. 

"What are you talking about!" he barked more than asked as he grabbed Francis by his arm and dragged him to his feet. Feliciano yelped helplessly as Ludwig's massive palm slammed itself against Francis's stunned cheek and Francis was ashamed to admit that his knees buckled at the blow. "Are you or are you not, Monsieur Élastique, the very Super who single handedly dismantled General Mayhem's Doomsday gun?"

Francis cringed as he cradled his throbbing cheek in his palm, but still managed to give a slow nod in response. "I am."

"And are you not the same man who saved an entire church from being burned to the ground during one of Hellspring's rampages?"

"I am!"

"Then stop sobbing like some battered housewife," Ludwig demanded as he gave the table another good pound, creating a deep crack as a result. "You are a soldier, a _warrior_! The same man who organized a league of Supers under the 'never say die' motto that we lived and fought by will not sit in a kitchen blubbering because of one small betrayal. If Arthur wants to be Captain Invincible again, then you will just have to be Monsieur Élastique once more!" 

"You are right," Francis cried as he stood a bit taller. "You are right! I am a man. I am Élastique! I will drag Arthur back here kicking and screaming and I will destroy any obstacle that stands in my way!"

"And when you get back, bring the children," Feliciano suggested cheerful. "Or just the baby. Or pictures of the baby!"

Francis tried not to groan too loudly as he rolled his eyes at Feliciano's words. He hoped that the adoption went through quickly, because he was having a hard time thinking straight over the sounds of Feliciano's biological clock ticking.

\--

Francis must have swallowed at least a gallon of water in order to send the three hundred or so aspirin tablets he had shoved into his mouth trudging down his throat, because he hadn't drank like that in years and guzzling four bottles of wine to drown his sorrows was clearly a poorly thought out decision. He groaned as he placed a tender hand to his forehead and silently prayed for the pills to work their magic as quickly as possible, because he needed to think clearly.

"Where is your brother?" Francis grumbled as he stared into Mathieu's confused gaze. "He needs to hear this too."

"Um, he's playing a video game," Mathieu explained sheepishly. "He said he was in the middle of an important level and didn't want to pause."

"That boy," Francis tsked as he grabbed a pad and paper and began to scribble a few notes. "Well I will write this down because I do not want to repeat myself." He barely even wanted to talk and the task of merely speaking and writing was enough to make him dizzy. "I prepared dinners for both of you and put them in microwavable containers. Do _not_ use the oven! Angelique's food has been labeled for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so feed her only one jar and put her down for the night. Do not forget to use the special lotion when you change her or else she may get diaper rash. Uncle Antonio is busy with work, but he will call to check on you later tonight and pick you up in the morning to take you to school. I want both you and your brother to do your homework and get to bed on time. I am going to set the alarm as soon as I leave, so remember to turn it off if you have to step outside for any reason and then turn it back on as soon as you get back inside.

"Do you understand everything, Mathieu?"

Mathieu's deep blue eyes seemed to grow all the wider as they followed along the lengthy detailed list that had been scribbled onto every inch of the notepad. He looked a bit overwhelmed, but Francis knew that he would be able to handle it all. "Yeah, uh, I guess so, but where are you gonna be Papa?"

"Nowhere," Francis answered quickly, before reconsidering his words. "It is nothing. Your father is in a bit of trouble and I need to see him."

"Dad's in trouble?" Mathieu whispered as concern caused his skin to lose its color. "Is he okay?"

"We shall see," Francis muttered to himself. He gave Mathieu's cheek a gentle pat as he handed him the notepad and instructed him to run along.

He heaved another heavy sigh as he walked into his bedroom and pulled out an old duffle bag from the back of the closet. The mid-afternoon lights were still a bit too bright for his eyes and there was still a dull throb inside his skull. Francis didn't know how he was going to get through this, because it had been years since he had last willingly put himself in such danger. He frowned as he threw the empty bag onto his comforter, because he wasn't even sure exactly what he would pack in order to face off against an unknown threat.

His weary eyes slowly drifted to the brown paper bag resting at the foot of his bed and Francis actually found himself thoughtfully pulling out each of the four suits Feliciano had shoved into his arms before ushering him out the door. He tried his best not to groan as he ran his fingers along the crimson fabric that had been gently folded and was now lying in front of him. It did seem practical, in a way, because if he were going to act like Monsieur Élastique, then he should dress like Monsieur Élastique. Yet he had put that life behind him a long time ago, and stepping back into the costume seemed as easy as slipping out of his skin.

"Hey Pops... what's _that_?" 

Francis turned towards the door where he saw Alfred's wide eyes and eager grin for only a fleeting second before the boy disappeared from sight. The sound of the bed springs squeaking was the only thing that alerted him to the boy's presence on the mattress and the fact that his hands were already clutching one of the costumes resting on the comforter. 

"This is so _cool_!" Alfred gushed as he pressed the outfit against his own chest and Francis had to marvel at the fact that Alfred had actually picked out the one Feliciano had designed specifically for him.

"Alfred," Francis began, his tone firm and chiding as he made to snatch the suit from the boy, but he had already bounced off the bed and out the door before he could make a move to stop him. "Alfred! Come back here!" he ordered, but the sound of the vibrating chime of his phone was enough to momentarily distract him. "That boy," Francis tsked, as he grabbed his phone and saw Gilbert's name flash onto his display. "Hello Gilbert."

"Hey," Gilbert muttered in a voice that clearly said he was only half awake. "My dumb brother said you wanted to talk to me 'bout something." 

"Yes," Francis said as the memories of his last conversation with Ludwig came floating back to him. He quickly stuffed his own suit into his duffle bag along with a few other odds and ends. "Yes, I wanted to-"

"Papa, I have a question," Mathieu began as he entered the bedroom, notepad still clutched in his hands.

"In a minute, Mathieu," Francis chided gently as he cupped his hand against the mouth piece of his phone. His words didn't get much further as a flash of red and blue suddenly went whizzing through the room and towards the full length mirror fixed to the front of his closet door. 

" _So_ awesome!" Alfred exclaimed as he studied his reflection, smiling brightly at the red and blue costume clad figure staring back at him. "I feel like I can run for _forever_ in these clothes."

"Take that off before someone sees you!" Francis ordered as he dropped the phone in favor of shutting the blinds and sending the room into an untimely darkness. His insides were quivering because he had never wanted to see the day when Alfred or Mathieu donned costumes and masks and... and now Mathieu was grabbing at his own suit!

"What is this?" the boy asked as he stared the white and blue emblem imprinted on the chest.

"It's your costume!" Alfred announced as he swiftly moved from the mirror to the top of the bed, where he began hopping up and down like a sugar charged rabbit. "It's specially made!"

"Get out! Both of you!" Francis barked, because his headache was building from a dull throb to a teeth chattering boom and the children were doing nothing but getting in his way. Alfred made to zip off again, but this time Francis caught him be the elbow before he could get too far. He grabbed Mathieu's shoulder and quickly shoved the twins out the door. "Get out of those clothes and keep quiet! Papa has to pack."

He slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, before taking a few long, calming breaths in order to gather his thoughts and stop the room for spinning violently before his eyes. When Francis felt confident he could move again without falling over or blacking out, he bent down to retrieve the phone that had fallen to the floor and was pleased to see that Gilbert was still on the line.

"Gilbert?"

"What the hell happened?" he asked instantly, his voice curious and weary all at once.

"Nothing," Francis said dismissively. "The children were being... children, but that is not important right now. I needed to ask for a favor."

"A favor, huh? What kind of favor?"

"A big one," he admitted as he gazed forlornly at the Super suit hidden within the darkened folds of his duffle bag. "I need you to fly me somewhere."


	8. Missile Lock

Francis was worried and Gilbert was too -- a fact that he had been able to decipher despite his friend's seemingly indifferent demeanor -- because this whole situation seemed wrong. They were approaching the island's air space, were in clear range of its tower, yet no one was responding to their frequent attempts to make contact.

"Give it another shot," Gilbert instructed as he motioned towards the head set that Francis had recently pulled off in frustration. "Maybe we weren't close enough before."

"The control panel clearly says that we are in range," he sighed even while placing the heavy headphones back on to his head. He grimaced as the thick straps and foam padding mussed and tangled his hair and the mouth piece continued to resist his efforts to adjust its length. "And you should be the one doing this. You are the pilot after all."

Gilbert gave an apathetic shrug and Francis was already rolling his eyes even before his friend could offer his excuse. "I never did pay attention to all that boring stuff. I just wanna fly."

"You cannot keep relying on your co-pilots," Francis reminded him. "After all, how long has it been since Ludwig was last able to fly with you?"

Gilbert said nothing as his jaw clenched and his hands tightened their grip on the controls and for a moment Francis felt awful for reminding Gilbert of the gap that had grown between him and his brother. A heavy silence settled over the cockpit and Francis decided to take the opportunity to once again attempt to radio the control tower. Again he repeated the altitude, direction, and level at which the jet was flying and requested permission to land, only to be met with more silence.

"Okay, this is probably not nearly as bad as you think it is," Gilbert piped in hopefully. "It's a small island. Maybe nobody's at the tower."

"Ah, oui, I am sure that they are all out getting coffee," Francis returned cynically. There was a strange, fidgety feeling tickling the pit of his stomach, the same sort of feeling he usually got when danger was dead ahead of him, and he did not like it one bit.

"Oh, just relax. I can land us safely without any help from the tower."

"If you say so," Francis sighed as he fought against the urge to jump from his seat and start pacing the length of the plane. Instead he simply groaned and rested his head in his hand. 

_What on earth had Arthur gotten himself into?_ he thought, the question ringing louder than any other thought churning through his mind, because the closer they got to this little speck of land, the more Francis felt absolutely certain that Arthur was not there of his own free will.

"So I was on the phone with my stupid brother," he heard Gilbert say and Francis realized only then that his friend must have been speaking for some time now. "And get this; he actually calls me up to tell me that Feli has already started turning one of their guest rooms into a nursery. Apparently they're already buying clothes and toys and shit for some kid that they don't even have yet! Can you believe them? Can you believe _him_? Calling me up just to tell me all this crap. Like I care!"

"Ludwig just wants to talk to you," Francis told him wearily as he recalled the panicked look he had seen on Ludwig's face the other day whenever the word "baby" had been brought up. "He wants to reach out to you, because he is scared."

"Hey, my brother doesn't get scared," Gilbert huffed defensively. "Besides, why the hell would he think that I know anything about any of this crap?"

"Well clearly he is aware that you are just as clueless as he is, but he also knows that you are his big brother. He is used to turning to _you_ when things get a bit... overwhelming."

Once again Gilbert fell silent as a far off gleam settled into his red eyes. Francis knew right away that he was both processing and suppressing everything that had just been said between them and Francis wished that he would stop being so pig headed, even for just a moment. He understood where Gilbert's fears were coming from, but that didn't stop Francis from worrying over the whole situation. The last thing he wanted was for Gilbert and Ludwig's relationship to turn cold and distant all because one party could not accept that the other's life was moving in another direction.

_It is like my parents all over again,_ Francis thought only to realize then that he may be projecting his own bad experiences onto this situation.

"Heh, why am I taking relationship advice from _you_ of all people," Gilbert snorted as a teasing smile began pulling at his lips. "Oh right, because you're such an 'expert' on human behavior. Geez, Francis, just because you banged my brother doesn't mean you know him."

"I told you to not to mention that," Francis chided dully. He had grown quite weary of Gilbert's tendency to bring up his steamy past whenever he disapproved of something Francis said. "It was a onetime thing and... and Arthur has not gotten over it."

"He should be used to it by now. I mean, you did bang just about every Super who gave you a sideways glance, _especially_ the ones with super strength." Gilbert tittered and Francis only shook his head as a little smile began tugging at the corners of his own lips. His old tomcat ways really wasn't something that he should be thinking about at the moment. "And I still can't believe you settled for Artie. Artie! Of all people..."

"What can I say? I loved him."

"Yeah, right," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes in a far too exaggerated manner. "Admit it, it was cause he knocked you up, wasn't it?"

"Gilbert," Francis said, his voice somewhere between a warning and a sigh, because they had had this conversation far too many times.

"Come on Francis, it's just the two of us. Tell me the truth."

"The truth is that I was always going to marry him."

"Bull!" Gilbert laughed. "You are _never_ gonna get me to believe that you were always planning to go through with that wedding, especially given how many times you used to tell me and Toni how you didn't want to ever get hitched or have kids."

"And I did both. Willingly."

"Yeah, and look where it's gotten you," Gilbert said only to clear his throat seconds later as if to acknowledge that he had said one word too many.

Francis felt his throat tighten as he wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. These last few days had been hard, because he honestly didn't know what was going to happen between him and Arthur. The words "divorce" and "separation" had popped into his mind more than a few times, because Arthur had lied, _lied_ , and put himself and all of them in grave danger because of childish impulses. Francis wondered, not for the first time, if he had it in him to forgive such a thing.

"I... I need to..." he began as he pushed himself out of the co-pilot chair and towards the bathroom situated just outside the cockpit.

"Francis," Gilbert said quickly as he reached out a hand in order to stop his friend's retreating form. Francis turned towards him and found only sincerity in Gilbert's red eyes. "Listen, Francis, I want you to know that... well, whatever happens..."

"I know."

"You and the kids can always come crash at my place if you need to."

"No Gilbert," Francis said, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "Your apartment is too small and smells of stale wurst and spilled beer."

They both gave a soft chuckle as Francis grabbed his duffle bag and slipped into the bathroom.

\--

Toris knew good and well that he should not be in awe, but he had to admit that he was more than a bit impressed by Captain Invincible. The man had not only dismantled an Omnidroid in record time, he had also gone up against Red Sickle and _lived_. True, Invincible had his enhanced strength and agility, but with all of his gadgets and knowledge, Red Sickle should have been unstoppable.

A fleeting, fluttery sort of feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach at that thought. It was certainly a blotch in his employer's nearly impeccable record, but Toris knew it did not matter. They were so close to completing the final phase of their plans, that there was nothing that could stand in Red Sickle's way.

Toris gazed up at Invincible's body, suspended motionless in mid air thanks to a series of cuff and electros that held enough power to render even a seasoned Super like Invincible ineffective. In the darkened room a number of control panels and monitors hummed and beeped, providing the only source of light to be found and causing the air to feel quite stuffy and warm. These machines were new, state of the art and never tested, and Toris had a feeling that Red Sickle was eager to see how it would perform against his former idol.

From the far end of the chamber, a door slid open with a steady hiss, and Red Sickle's towering form all but floated towards them. Toris took a slight step back as his employer approached Captain Invincible's prone form and suddenly Toris felt very much like an ant in the presence of titans. 

"Impressive as always, Captain Invincible," Sickle smiled as a note of merriment colored his words. "Not many could survive such a fall or withstand such powerful blast, but you did! You even managed to evade my scanners. No wonder Ivan used to worship you as a child. But on other hand, you did make big mistake when you sent out emergency signal. Too bad."

Invincible raised his head then, his eyes meeting Sickle's smirking face with only weariness and confusion. Toris wondered if he was still feeling woozy, because their security system certainly had done a number on him and the guards in the facility could be quite vicious when they were in the mood. "What signal?" he asked.

Red Sickle turned towards one of the guards who had been sitting by a control panel, observing the conversation with dutiful stillness. Just like all the other suited men in this building he was silent and faceless and Toris hated him. Sickle waved his hand casually, his smile never once faltering, and Toris watched as the guard twisted a dial and allowed a volt of electricity to course its way through Invincible's body. He watched as Invincible stiffened his body tensing and his eyes screwing shut as a heavy groan escaped through his clenched teeth. Toris felt his stomach coil at the sight, because while it had only lasted a moment, the image of the powerful man twisting in pain seemed to jolt its way into his heart along with the shock waves.

"You are very funny, Captain Invincible," Red Sickle chuckled once the electrocution had ended. "But we both know that homing beckon emitted from you last night. And now, this morning, mysterious plane is approaching island and requesting permission to land."

"I didn't contact anyone you demented twit!" Invincible all but seethed and even if it lasted only for a fleeting second, Toris still caught the way Sickle's eyes widened as if struck.

Sickle walked over to the control panel himself then, brushing the guard's hand away, in order to twist the dial until the knob seemed ready to snap off. Invincible howls of pain were like finger nails digging into his ears and the very light from the electric currents were enough to turn the dim room an eerie white. His suspended frame rocked and convulsed back and forth, back and forth, for what seemed like an eternity as Invincible tried desperately to withstand the pain.

For a moment, Toris felt certain that he would be sick, because even after Sickle had stopped, the smell of smoke and cooked flesh still hung in the air. Yet it was the too gentle gloved hand caressing his side that stopped him, not from its comfort, but from the reminder of where he was and what he was doing.

"Play message," Sickle instructed and it took Toris a moment to realize that he had been addressing him.

He gave a weak nod as he walked over towards one of the massive machines and pressed a button that allowed that morning's tape to play. The sound of a heavily accent man's voice drifted into the room and Toris watched as Invincible's head, despite the immense pain no doubt coursing through him, snapped up at the sound.

Sickle must have caught the gesture as well, because his smile grew just a little bit wider, just a bit colder, at the sight. "So this is comrade, da?" he asked merrily. "Well, we must send them reply."

\--

As foolish as it was, Francis had to admit that he felt a bit better. Somehow, the mere act of slipping into the tight red and blue body suit was enough to steady his nerves and give him a (likely false) sense of control over the situation. Not that he liked the design any more than he had previously. He glanced into the small mirror mounted on the wall in front of him and sneered at the large white "I" adorning his chest. 

"I am _not_ Mrs. Invincible," he muttered to his reflection as if that would be enough to change the detested emblem.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom. He turned towards the cockpit and saw Gilbert flying steady and level among a field of clear blue sky. Not for the first time he prayed that he was overreacting and that the situation was not nearly as dire as he feared.

"Whoa! Where'd you get the flashy new suit?"

Francis blinked, his mind returning to the present at the sound of his friend's voice, because it was only then that he realized that Gilbert had been staring at him. A smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over the deep red fabric that clung to every inch of his skin. "From Feliciano," he told him. "He gave it to me for free. Just like old times!"

"What? You mean _Ludwig_ gave you a suit, but didn't bother making one for his own brother?" Gilbert gave an indignant huff before turning back towards the front of the plane. Somehow, Francis knew that he was still pouting. "Unbelievable!"

"Gilbert," he began carefully as he tossed his duffle bag into one of the empty seats that filled out the body of the plane. 

He would have said more, but the soft "ow!" that greeted his ears was enough to give him pause. Francis turned towards the seat where he had deposited his bag and saw that the brown duffle was currently hovering a few inches above the chair's red fabric.

"Mathieu!"

With a sheepish murmur of "Maple," the air shifted and shimmered until Mathieu appeared in front of him, wearing his own suit at that. "It's not my fault Papa!" Mathieu cried out instantly. "This was Alfred's idea."

"Liar!" Francis twisted around just as Alfred's blond head appeared behind a chair just a few rows back. He barely had time to process the sight of him in his red and blue Super suit before the boy ran next to him in order to glare over at Mathieu. "You're the one who said 'Papa's acting really weird and Dad's probably in big trouble.'"

"Alfred ran away and I knew he was gonna follow you to the airport," Mathieu went on, ignoring his twin even as Alfred hollered at the top of his lungs in order to drown out Mathieu's words. "I knew that it was a bad idea so I came with him to try to bring him back!"

"You're the one who saw Pops and Uncle Gil getting onto the jet," Alfred countered, speaking directly to Mathieu. "You said 'I wonder what they're up to' which was totally code for 'let's sneak on board the plane!'"

"Francis, what's going on back there?" Gilbert called out from the cockpit, his own words lapping over the boys and their frantic explanations. "Are the wonder twins on board? I signed up for a rescue mission not a freakin' family vacation! What do I look like, a babysitter?"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Francis cried out and was pleased when all three voices came to a sudden end. "You mean to tell me that you boys were here the entire time?" Francis began slowly, focusing his attention only on the children. "Were you two listening to our conversation?"

Mathieu flushed, Alfred looked away, and both boys began squirming under his gaze. "We... we weren't _trying_ to listen," Mathieu said sheepishly.

"Especially not to that part where you and Uncle Gil were talking about all the people you had sex with," Alfred put in helpfully. "Or... or when he said you didn't want to have kids."

"He was joking, right Papa? You wanted us right?"

"And what did Uncle Gil mean when he said you married Dad 'cause he knocked you up? You guys always said you were married for a year before you had us."

"Oh my..." The words withered away and died in his throat, because the idea that his babies had suddenly been let in on some of his darkest secrets was enough to make his insides grow cold. "Gilbert!"

"Hey! I didn't know they were on board," Gilbert said defensively and on any other occasion, Francis may have let it go, but at the moment he wanted to ring Gilbert's neck.

Of course, that thought was quickly pushed aside when a more pressing issue came to mind. "What about Angelique?" Francis gasped as he felt his heart nearly come to a halt at the very notion. "Did you two leave the baby _alone_?"

"No way, Pops! We're not stupid," Alfred cried defensively.

"We called a babysitter before we left," Mathieu put in. "And then we texted Uncle Antonio and said you'd be taking us with you."

"So you left your baby sister in the hands of a stranger, lied to a close family friend, and ran away from home? Mon Dieu! What have you two become?"

"You?" Gilbert supplied helpfully.

"Be quiet!" Francis ordered sternly, because he was not in the mood for jokes. What had happened to his family? Francis had always known that his boys (well, Alfred at least) could be quite mischievous at times, but never would he have expected something like this. "You two will be in big trouble when we get home," he huffed as he marched towards the phone mounted to a wall near the cockpit. "And do not think that you can pout your way out of this! Your school mates will be going off to college by the time you will be allowed to leave your room again."

A set of sheepish looks had already settled onto the twins' faces, but Francis told himself quite sternly that he would not let either of them off easily, no matter how cute they looked. He quickly dialed a few numbers, pounding on the digits with more force than necessary, before pressing the phone against his ear.

"Hey munchkins, why don't you guys come up here and watch your Uncle Gil fly?" Gilbert suggested playfully and Francis wasn't at all surprised to see the boys scampering from their seats and into the cockpit. 

He distantly listened to Gilbert complaining at the sight of the children's new suits until the steady chimes on the phone were replaced by a teenage girl's friendly voice. "Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence. Emma speaking."

"Hello Emma," Francis greeted. It was a struggle to push away the annoyance clawing at his words in order to speak in his usual charming tone, but he managed it. The fact that this girl, Emma, had referred to the family as the "Kirkland-Bonnefoys" certainly helped to improve his spirits, because to Francis there was no greater annoyance than when someone skipped over his last name and acknowledged them collectively as "the Kirklands." (The only thing that could irritate him more was to see a piece of junk mail addressed to "Mrs. Francis Kirkland.") "This is Francis Bonnefoy."

"Oh, Mr. Bonnefoy! How good to hear from you," she said merrily. "I see the boys got in contact with you."

"Yes, about that. You see, the boys hired you without my knowledge and... Well, Angelique is not used to being around strangers, so I would feel much better calling a family friend to look after her."

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Bonnefoy," Emma said breezily. "I'm great with kids! I've had tons of experience babysitting. I can cook, clean, do laundry, and I could probably change a diaper with my eyes closed! Besides, Angelique seems to like me just fine. I made her some waffles and she ate them all up. She got a bit sticky, but I'll clean up her up in just a sec, which I guess won't be a big deal since your boys told me she loves bath time."

"Yes, well..." Francis began, but soon found his words coming to a fumbling halt. He didn't know what else to say, aside from the fact that he rarely ever let Angelique out of his sight and only felt comfortable doing so when he knew that she was around someone he could trust. Angelique may not have been a Super like the twins, but that didn't stop the little voice in the back of his mind from whispering to him that he needed to give Antonio a call and have him trade places with this girl. "Emma, I am sure that you are a fine babysitter, but I am not comfortable with this," he said honestly. "I will pay you for your time when I get back, but I would rather have a friend take over."

"There's no need, Mr. Bonnefoy," she assured him. "I swear there's nothing this baby can throw at me that I can't handle."

His mouth opened in an effort to make one final argument, but the shrill, steady beep that cut through the calm within the plane caused him to swallow the words in his throat.

"What the hell?" Gilbert muttered thoughtfully as Francis quickly placed the phone back on its cradle.

"Hey Uncle Gil, what does 'missile lock' mean?" Alfred asked as he leaned over Gilbert's shoulder in order to get a better look at the words flashing against the control panel.

"It means you munchkins had better strap yourselves in."

"What?" Mathieu whispered, a hint of panic coloring his words as his wide eyes turned towards Francis. "Papa?"

"Do as you are told," Francis ordered as he shoved the two towards the tail end of the plane and strapped himself in the co-pilot seat. He felt the jet's engine's kick into high gear as soon as his fingers touched the headset and the force of the sudden acceleration was almost enough to make him lose his grip. He heard the children yelp in shock and allowed himself to take a moment to glance back at them to see that they had indeed strapped themselves into their seats.

The beep was still echoing through the cabin and Francis could now see the clear outline of two missiles closing in on their tail on the control panel's display. Despite their increased speed, the missiles were keeping pace with them, and Francis's stomach was filling with dread even as he switched the radio back on.

"Aren't there any weapons on this thing?" Gilbert asked as his eyes roamed frantically across the sea of switches and buttons spread out in front of him.

"Why would I bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" Francis snapped.

"Why _wouldn't_ you bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" he countered just as he sent the plane into a sharp nose dive. 

Seeing the field of clear blue ocean rushing up towards them was enough to pull Francis's mind out of the panicked cloud it had drifted into and he quickly began signaling the tower, requesting that they disengage. Gilbert pulled the plane skyward once more, but the maneuver hadn't been enough to halt the twin rockets in their pursuit of them. Francis could feel his heart churning in his ears, because the control tower was still refusing to acknowledge his calls and even when he informed them that there were children aboard their plane, the missiles stayed on course.

"I don't think that's gonna work, Franny," Gilbert managed to say from between gritted teeth. It had been quite some time since he had been forced to pilot a plane under these conditions and Francis could see that Gilbert was running out of tricks and maneuvers in order to get them out of danger. "You should probably start thinking of something else."

"Mathieu!" Francis began as he twisted around in his seat in order to get a better look at his children. From his angle, he couldn't see Alfred, but Mathieu was in his line of sight and was currently clutching his duffle bag tight against his chest. "Mathieu, you need to put a force field around the plane!"

"Whuh what?" Mathieu stammered as he blinked owlishly at Francis. He could see the frightened tears glistening in the boy's eyes and a small part of Francis felt absolutely horrible for putting the child in such a position. "I've never done one that big before!"

"You have to try," Francis urged just as Gilbert sent the plane into a tail spin, causing them to be jerked roughly to the right of the cabin. "You have to do it!"

He did try, but it was impossible for someone so inexperienced to use their powers properly under so much pressure and Mathieu's fingers fumbled and jerked about dumbly as he managed to only create tiny little bubbles of energy that popped in midair before they could expand more than a foot.

"Parachutes," he heard Gilbert ground out. "Does this thing have any parachutes?"

Francis didn't know, but he doubted that he'd be able to find them, grab enough for all four of them, put them on, and jump out of the plane before they were blown to bits. 

It was only then that Francis recalled Ludwig and Feliciano's little demonstration from just the other day. His suit would be able to withstand a direct blow from two missiles. But what about the children? But what about Gilbert?

"Papa!" Alfred cried out and Francis didn't have to look at the display screen to see that their time had run out.

\--

"We have a confirmed hit," one of the men said in a voice that was far too flat and neutral for Toris's liking. "Target destroyed."

His head felt heavy and his legs were wobbling so badly that he had to rest most of his weight against one of the large terminals just to keep from collapsing. Children. There had been children aboard that plane. The very thought alone was enough to make his stomach churn. It was hard enough having to sleep at night knowing what they had done -- what _he_ had helped to do -- to so many men and women, but children...

Toris closed his eyes against the thought and found himself remembering the way Captain Invincible had struggled against his binds as the voice, a pilot or copilot, had continued to plea for them to call off their attack. Toris had read Invincible's file, he knew that he had a family, was married with three children and he wondered if they had been the ones on that plane.

He turned towards Invincible then and saw that his body had gone completely slack. Even in the dim light of the room, Toris could still see that his skin had gone horribly pale and the once great Super had never looked more frail and weak in his eyes. It was almost as if all the life had been sucked out of him and Toris wanted to go somewhere dark and quiet so he could weep for him.

"Oh, too bad," Red Sickle tutted as his heavy gloved hands patted one of the men on their shoulder. That ever present smile twitched and spread just a bit wider as he sauntered over towards Invincible, studying the hollow gaze on his broken features. "You will get over it. You work alone, remember?"

A light chortle escaped Sickle's curled lips as he turned his back on Invincible and Toris saw the man's head lift then, his eyes burning with something dark and unfitting on a hero's face. Somehow, despite the electricity surging through his binds, Invincible managed to move himself just enough to reach out towards Sickle, but Toris had moved quickly enough to push his employer out of the way. It was an unfortunate move that left him in the even more unfortunate position of being ensnared by Invincible's grasp. Invincible wasn't a large man, but he was a strong man and in that moment he was filled with a powerful hate that could only consume a man who had just listened on helplessly as everything he loved died. 

His arms were clenching down tight around Toris in a twisted, crushing embrace that made the mere act of breathing seem like fire running through his lungs. He tried to cry out, but his voice was trapped in his throat and Toris could practically feel Invincible's hate pulsing into him, burning his skin from the very force of it.

"Release me," Invincible seethed. "Or I will kill him."

He could do it. Toris knew he could. He had seen Invincible crush a gun in his hands like a sheet of paper, had witnessed him go toe to toe with the Omnidroid, and watched as he pulled train cars all by himself. Snapping Toris's frail body in half would be as simple as breaking a popsicle stick for a normal man and panic began pouring into the pit of his stomach.

Toris twisted his head around so that he could gaze uncomfortably over at Sickle. The man's face seemed unchanged, although somewhat impressed, as he stared back at his former idol. "I let you go," he began slowly, "so you can kill me? I think no."

Invincible's grip tightened and somehow Toris could feel his entire body turning blue from the pressure of those arms around him. "So you'd rather see your lap dog die?" he sneered in a voice that was so hot and venomous that it seared Toris's skin.

"I would like to see you do such a thing," Sickle challenged and Toris couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He closed his eyes, feeling the pressure slowly increase and he felt certain that any second now his bones would begin to snap like dried twigs.

That moment never came and the only blow Toris felt was when his head bounced off the hardened floor. He opened his eyes and saw that Invincible had released him, that he was hovering above him once more, suspended and broken and unable to kill a man who had helped to destroy him.

"I knew you couldn't do it," Sickle taunted. "You see? That is difference between you and me: I grew strong, you stayed weak."

Sickle turned to leave once more and Toris was forced to crawl to his trembling feet as the sounds of Invincible's broken sobs echoed in his ears.

\--

The trip to shore hadn't been easy, but they had made it. The sun was nearly set, casting the unfamiliar beach in a ghostly grayish glow, but the sturdy sand felt so good against his rubbery limbs that Francis could not find it in himself to complain.

Alfred had collapsed beside him, breathing more heavily than Francis could ever recall seeing, and Mathieu sat huddled into a ball just a few feet away with his face still buried in the worn leather of the duffle bag. Francis allowed them to rest for a little while and he turned his gaze towards the sea as he gathered his strength and his thoughts.

As usual, his body had acted before his brain, and in a moment fueled only by paternal instinct he had unbuckled himself from the co-pilot's seat and wrapped himself around the twins, shielding their bodies with his and leaving Gilbert to face the force of the missiles on his own. He kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind and each time he did he knew that he could have saved his friend, but he hadn't. He had chosen his children over a man who had fought side by side with him through countless battles. He had left a good man, a friend, a brother, to die such an unfitting death. As a father, he knew he had done the right thing, but as a friend...

Francis pushed those thoughts away for now as he gathered Alfred's body into his arms and carried him the way he had done when he was just a baby. He had blacked out for a moment after the plane had been hit, but the rushing wind in his face and the frantic screams of his children ringing in his ears had been enough to draw him back to the waking world before they could hit the water. 

"Where's Uncle Gil?" Alfred had asked him as they waded through the open ocean, his blue eyes so wide and innocent in that moment, that Francis hadn't had the heart to say the obvious.

They had waited in the rocky waters for a few minutes longer than necessary, because even though Francis had quite clearly seen the nose of the plane disappear into the depths below, a part of him had still clung to the hope that Gilbert would resurface at the last minute or float down from the clouds and laugh at them for thinking that he would die so easily. 

When it became painfully clear that neither of those scenarios were likely to happen, Francis remembered that he had two children to take care of and quickly formed a plan to get them to shore safely. Using his body as a makeshift raft and Alfred's legs as a motor, they made their way to the same island where the missiles had originated from, because Francis knew they would find Arthur there.

After gathering his strength, Francis lifted himself and Alfred off of the sand, summoning up what little energy he had in him to do so, and wordlessly motioned for Mathieu to follow them as they trekked inland. He found a cave not far from the shore and left the boys there to rest while he gathered wood to make a fire. When he returned, Alfred was half asleep and half awake, resting most of his weight on his brother's shoulder as silent tears slipped down Mathieu's flushed cheeks.

Their suits were already dry by the time the fire had been set and burning and Francis took the opportunity to slip between his children and press their bodies against his. He knew they all needed that. 

"Boys," he began softly as he ran a hand through their still damp hair. "I need to tell you both the truth." The twins squirmed as they adjusted themselves in order to get a better look at him. "Your father is somewhere on this island," Francis explained, "and he may be in grave danger. I have to go find him so we can all go home."

"You mean you're going to leave us, Pops?" Alfred asked as his grip on Francis's suit tightened.

"Don't go Papa," Mathieu whispered as a note of fear crept into his voice.

He shushed them gently, pressing a kiss to each of their heads before reaching into the duffle bag. "I have to go. Daddy needs me." 

He slipped his hand into the brown duffle and grabbed the three navy blue masks that Feliciano had made for them. Francis sighed as he pressed the largest one onto his face, covering his eyes with the heavy blue material. It had been a long time since he had hid his features behind a strip of rubber, yet the weight of it still felt quite familiar. 

"Put these on," he instructed as he handed a mask to each twin. "You must guard your identities at all cost. I want you both to stay in the cave, but if anyone should find you..."

"We can use our powers?" Alfred asked eagerly, an excited sort of gleam lighting his eyes.

"Yes," Francis said and he found himself laughing despite the situation.

"But you and Dad always said we shouldn't use our powers," Mathieu countered. There was a hint of desperation in his tone as Mathieu shifted closer to Francis's side, pressing himself against him, seeking his warmth. "You always said that if someone sees us using our powers then we'd be taken away forever!"

Francis sighed. Clearly he and Arthur had taught the boys far too well. "Mathieu," Francis began wearily, before mindfully adjusting his tone. It wasn't Mathieu's fault that up until this moment using his natural gifts had been consider a taboo. It wasn't his fault that he lived in a world that didn't want him to exist. "This is more important than some silly law that says you will be taken away for being different. This island is crawling with armed men and women, people who will not hold back because you are children. They will kill you."

The excited twinkle disappeared from Alfred's eyes and Mathieu's skin turned positively ashen at Francis's words. It was not his intention to frighten them. He only wanted his boys to understand the situation they were in and not for the first time that day he wished that they were safely tucked away at home instead of here listening to this little speech. 

He wrapped his arms around them and offered their cheeks one last kiss. "Stay together," he told them. "Keep each other safe. I will be back by morning."

With one last look at his twins, he stood and turned towards the mouth of the cave. He didn't get very far, only stepping a foot or two into the jungle, before he heard Mathieu's voice approaching him. 

"Papa," he cried out as he trotted towards Francis's side. He hadn't put his mask on yet, it was still clenched desperately between his fingers, and it made the teary guilt glimmering in his gaze all the more prominent. "Papa, I... I wanted to say... back on the plane... I'm sorry."

Francis felt his heart break into more pieces than could be counted and in that moment he would have given anything to relieve the guilt weighing down on Mathieu's heart. "Do not blame yourself," he whispered to him, because if he spoke any louder the boy would have heard the strain in his voice. "What happened was not your fault." _It was mine._ "It was wrong of me to ask so much of you, but things are different now. There is no time for doubt."

"I can't do this," Mathieu whispered.

"You can," he assured, pressing a hand to that pale cheek and wiping away the tears. "There is more strength in side of you than you realize. After all, heroics are in your blood."

Mathieu gave a weakened nod as he used the back of his gloved hands to dry away the rest of his tears. Francis knew it would take more than one little speech for Mathieu to realize what was inside of him, because it was simply something that he would have to discover for himself, but in that moment he hoped that it could be enough. He kissed his cheeks one last time, treasuring the smooth skin and familiar scent, before turning to sprint off into the darkened jungle and the unknown dangers lurking ahead.


	9. Lithe or Death

Pushing his way through the tangled throng of tree branches, vines, and roots Francis -- or rather, Monsieur Élastique -- couldn't help thinking how he had never thought to find himself in a situation like this ever again.

No, not "again," because this was completely unlike anything he had ever dealt with in the past. His best friend was dead, his husband was being held hostage, and he had been forced to leave his children alone in hostile territory all in the hopes of finding some means of escape. In many ways it was like the old days, but the sense of urgency and dread clawing at his belly was completely new. 

All the same, Élastique would have been lying if he said there wasn't a small part of him that was filled with an odd flutter at the thrill of the situation. After all, he was masked and clothed in a tight fitting costume while lurking about a darkened jungle on an island in the middle of nowhere. Danger lurked around every corner and at any moment an armed guard could come charging towards him, guns blazing and ready to rip him to shreds. It was just like old times.

_Gilbert would have loved this._

That thought was enough to pull his mind out of the cloud of fond nostalgia it had been floating in and crashing back to the here and now. Gilbert may have enjoyed all this, but as it was, he was dead _because_ of it and if Élastique didn't act quickly then Alfred and Mathieu may suffer the same fate.

His stomach tightened and his pace quickened as Élastique continued to search the thick darkness set before his eyes for something, _anything_ , that may help him to find Arthur. He had been wandering about for what seemed like hours and had yet to come across anything suspicious. There were no cameras, guards, or traps of any sort that he could follow and Élastique was beginning to think that he was lost.

He was just about to turn back and retrace his steps when he heard the sound of a shrill, yet steady whizzing not far from him. He sprinted towards the noise, pushing away any low branches and leaves that attempted to block his path. It didn't take long before Élastique found himself in the middle of a clearing just at the base of a steep mountain. Yet more startling than that was the large stretch of rail running alongside the mountain range. Élastique supposed that it was some sort of monorail system that the facility on the island used to transport their workers and he felt certain that he could use it to find out where the prisoners were held.

Élastique craned his neck upward as the now familiar sound greeted his ears and he watched as a small, egg shaped cart zoomed by him on the tracks. He took a few steps backwards -- pressing himself back into the tangled forest in hopes of hiding himself from any security guards or workers that may glance downwards -- and watched as another cart went by, followed by another. A full minute seemed to go by between each cart and Élastique took a few steps forward in order to get himself into position. He flexed his arms, shook his limps, and wiggled his fingers, because he only had one shot and it needed to be perfect.

The shrill noise was approaching, louder and louder, and Élastique licked his lips and held his breath just as the oblong shaped cart came into sight. He gave a silent count, _One... two... three..._ , before stretching out his arm as far as he could. His fingers touched metal, and he somehow managed to find a crevasse deep enough on the seemingly immaculate white surface that he could get a firm grip on it. He allowed himself to be pulled along with the cart, retracting his arms as much as he could allow as the wind whooshed by his face. His eyes stung and his arms burned, but Élastique managed to maintain this position long enough to see the entrance of a tunnel approaching him. He climbed on top of the carriage, compressing his body until he was pressed flat against its roof with just enough space to be able to enter the tunnel.

A thick darkness enveloped the passageway, but it was only for a moment, because soon a large glass window overlooking what appeared to be an airplane hangar opened up beside him. Even in the cramped space, Élastique was able to twist his head around in order to get a good look at what appeared to be dozens of men in white jackets and strange uniforms milling about what appeared to be a rocket ship.

"A rocket?" he found himself saying, because the large pillar jutting out of the ground was too startling to ignore. _Oh Arthur, what have you gotten yourself into?_

\--

Mattie was playing with the fire. 

That was the short version of it at least, because really what Mattie was doing was concentrating on forming little force fields around the flames and puffs of smoke that it emitted in order to see how long they could last or how big he could make them. 

It was boring.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Alfred knew that if he wasn't Mattie's brother and was seeing him do this for the first time then maybe it would be cool, but since he _was_ Mattie's brother and he _wasn't_ seeing any of this for the first time, he found it incredibly boring and watching this scene play out for a good hour wasn't making it any more interesting.

This whole situation should have been a lot more interesting, a lot cooler, but it wasn't. This was what he had been waiting for as long as he could remember. When his parents had first sat him and Mattie down and explained that they were retired Superheroes, Alfred had been beside himself with glee. He knew that being a Super's kid, and a Super himself, meant that he was guaranteed to have an adventure someday, but that day never came and being a Super just seemed to involve a lot of hiding.

Now at long last they were having a real adventure, but it wasn't turning out at all like he would have imagined. Yeah they got to sneak on board that cool jet and they were wearing their awesome costumes, but Uncle Gil was... and Pops... and Dad...

"My butt's numb," Alfred announced as he pushed himself off of the hard floor of the cave. Mattie looked at him, startled by the sudden announcement, but Alfred only sighed as reached over towards the fire pit in order to grab the base of a large stick. He lifted it carefully, carrying the hunk of wood like a torch, careful to keep the flaming end away from his eyes. "I'm gonna have a look around."

"Papa told us to stay together," Mattie chided, his face twisting up in a cross between a frown and a pout.

"I'm not leaving," Alfred huffed. "I just wanna see how deep this cave goes."

" _Alfred!_ " Mattie cried out as he shifted on the dirt. "When are you gonna grow up? This isn't a game, you know."

"Duh! I was on that plane too."

"Yeah, well you aren't acting like it." He watched as Mattie's cheeks turned pink and even with the thick mask covering his eyes Alfred could see that they were turning a bit red. "We're in danger, the Dads are in danger, and... and when we get home things probably aren't gonna be any better."

Alfred blinked in confusion at those last words. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about," Mattie began, but stopped, shook his head, and started over. "I mean Papa's probably gonna leave Dad."

He blinked again, but this time he found himself snorting as well. "Are you still on that?" he laughed sarcastically. "Come on Mattie! I already told you that's not gonna happen."

"Dammit Alfred, just because you don't want to think about something, doesn't mean it's not real!" Mattie all but screamed. Alfred actually found himself jerking back as Mattie's cheeks began to burn brighter and his fist pounded against the ground. "You don't get that we could be dead by morning! You could die, the Dads could die and Uncle Gil..." His eyes, already red and glossy, were now swimming with tears as he gave the dirt another, weaker, pound. "Uncle Gil's dead. He died and... and I let it happen."

Mattie didn't say anything else. He only sat there, sobbing gently to himself as he starred into the roaring fire.

Alfred shifted uncomfortably at the scene. He didn't know what to say, just that he wanted Mattie to stop crying and stop blaming himself for stuff that was bigger than him.

His fingers clenched against the sturdy base of the stick in his hands. He could feel the flames through the thick fabric of his gloves. Alfred swallowed against the tightness in his throat before turning to head deeper into the back of the cave.

\--

Lurking in the shadowy halls of the enemy's lair made Monsieur Élastique feel very much like 007 sneaking into SPECTRE headquarters. ( _Mon Dieu. Did I just make a James Bond reference?_ Élastique thought with a self loathing shudder. Clearly the signs of cohabiting with a Brit were beginning to show and a small part of Élastique was regretting giving in and allowing Arthur to force him to sit through a James Bond marathon after fighting the good fight for more than fifteen years.) Not that he imagined the debonair secret agent to be the sort who would crawl through air vents in order to locate his kidnapped partner. Or perhaps he was. Élastique wasn't sure, because he had not seen nearly enough of those movies to really know one way or the other.

That didn't matter of course. The only thing that mattered was the fact that Élastique had been crawling through the dust clouded air ducts on his sore hands and knees for the better part of the night and still hadn't managed to locate the prisoner detention center. Clearly, he needed to change tactics.

Peeking through one of the cobweb caked grates, Élastique was able to see that he was currently suspended above what appeared to be a vacant corridor. The hall was sleek and polished and startlingly white, just as all the others had been. He carefully snaked his hand between the gaps in the vent in order to gently unscrew the bolts fastening it in place, before giving it a firm push. A scratchy creek echoed through the duct as the vent fell wide open.

Élastique wriggled a bit closer before stretching his neck and slipping his head out of the air duct. Looking around the hall, Élastique saw no distinguishing markings or features to be seen on any of the walls and the only doors in sight had no knobs, only keypads or palm plates. Clearly he would be better off crawling around the vent like a common rat.

It was then that Élastique heard the door towards the rear of the hall give a piercing beep just seconds before it opened. Élastique retracted his head a few inches until only his eyes were peaking out of the duct and watched as a sharp figured young man clad in a sleek uniform with a bright red R decorating his shoulders marched along the corridor. He saw that along with the pistol strapped to his hip and the radio on his collar, there was a keycard dangling from his belt and Élastique found an idea forming in his mind.

He wriggled around in the cramped metal tunnel before gently sliding out feet first. His booted soles touched down on the titled floor with no more than a soft tap and Élastique was careful to make sure that all of his steps were just as gentle as he snuck up behind the man in front of him.

Élastique quickly tip toed after the man and pressed his index finger firmly against the base of his neck. The man stopped in his tracks, his feet coming to a sudden halt, and his shoulders arching squarely in place. 

"Hands behind your head," Élastique instructed in his most flat, commanding tone.

"Joke's on you pal," the young man as his fingers began inching towards the gun on his hip. "This suit's bullet proof. Head to foot Kevlar!"

The guard would have grabbed his weapon and squeezed off a shot if Élastique had not already wrapped his arms around the young man's limbs, pinning them tightly behind him. "Well, that is a funny joke," Élastique chuckled as he plucked the pistol from the man's holster and tossed it over his shoulder. It skidded along the tiled floors, out of sight and useless and Élastique was quick to pluck the keycard from his belt. "Where do you keep your prisoners?"

"Forget it freak show," the guard sneered. "I'm not talking."

Élastique swiftly retaliated to that snide comment by tightening the little knot he had looped around the man's limbs until a loud groan erupted from his lips. Even standing behind him like this, Élastique could still see the way his face turned red and his teeth clenched shut in pain as his arms were forced further behind him. He wasn't one for torture, but Élastique wasn't exactly in a friendly state of mind that night.

"Now let us try this again, and this time, do not be such a smart mouth. Where do you keep your prisoners?"

The man kept shut, but that didn't matter, because in that moment Élastique's ears perked up at the sound of the piercing shriek of the door behind him. He spun around just as the entrance slid open and Élastique soon found himself facing two more identically dressed men standing side by side with their rifles trained on him.

"Nice work, freak job," the man in his arms grunted as he attempted to wiggle out of Élastique's vice like hold. "How you gonna get outta this one?"

"Smart mouth!" Élastique chided as he clamped a hand down over the guard's lips. "You are not the only one with a bullet proof suit."

With that said, Élastique flung the struggling guard towards his unsuspecting cohorts, who dropped their weapons in shock, as they attempted to catch their friend. Not that it did the group any good as they all ended up toppling over like a set of pins that had been struck by a bowling ball.

One of the men managed to recover their senses quickly enough to reach for their gun, but Élastique already had his fist wound up and struck the man firmly in the jaw all the way from his end of the corridor. He wobbled and fell over. 

Another man attempted to climb to his feet, but Élastique had already sprinting over to his side and was quick to elbow him square in the stomach, before grabbing one of the fallen riffles and butting it against the base of his neck.

When his companions were completely unconscious, the man that Élastique had flung at them finally came to, cradling his head in his hands and groaning as the haze of pain slowly lifted from his mind. Élastique was sure to rip the helmet off of his head and press the muzzle of the gun against his temple. "You know, I have two boys," Élastique informed the young man, tapping the tip of the rifle against his forehead for good measure, "and if either of them turned out half as bad as you, I would be forced to rip off my skin and pour lemon juice all over my body in order to dull the agonizing shame that I would be living in."

"Go to hell," the young man managed to hiss and Élastique gave his hair a good yank in retaliation. 

"Gladly, but you will go first, of course. That is, unless you want to tell me where the prison is located?"

\--

Everything about him felt wrong. His insides felt cold and slimy and his head couldn't stop throbbing. His heart felt as if it had been frozen solid and was slowly being chipped at with a dull ice pick. Toris had been wandering around in this state for hours now and he had a strong feeling that the tight knots forming in the pit of his stomach would only get worse as time crawled on.

Toris glanced over at Red Sickle and watched as he studied the flickering images on the monitors with his usual smile. It was just the two of them stuck in the room tonight, just as it was every other night, and suddenly the mere act of being alone with his employer felt absolutely unbearable. Not that Sickle made for good company on any other occasion, but at least most nights Toris would easily be able to grit his teeth and make do with the awkward atmosphere, but that was simply impossible after everything that had happened today.

His eyes sank to the files clenched in his hands and the urge to say _something_ was enough to make his throat burn. 

Three children. Captain Invincible had three children. Twin boys. A little girl. He wondered what they had looked like, what they had sounded like and Toris imagined that they had been beautiful and smart and so full of...

"He isn't weak."

Sickle turned to him, a light "hmm?" escaping his lips and it was only then that Toris realized that he had said anything. He swallowed against the firm lump sitting in his throat.

"Invincible isn't weak," Toris found himself saying and he was suddenly quite grateful that he and Sickle were very much alone. "Valuing human life... it doesn't make you weak. And killing _children_... Well, that just makes you a monster."

There wasn't much light in the cramped little room. The only thing illuminating the two of them were the faint glow from the monitors and switches and they only helped to make Sickle's large, costume clad figure looking even more haunting as he stared at Toris with piercing violet eyes. Toris felt himself shudder and his stomach flip into a hard knot, but he did not regret what he had said, because suddenly all the secrets that Sickle, Ivan, had whispered to him in the dead of night didn't matter. This was no longer a scared little boy nursing a wounded heart, it was a man who had murdered innocent children without batting an eye and even if Toris took back what he had said, he knew it wouldn't change how he now felt.

"You know, I think it is funny for you to say that," Sickle told him, his words slow and deliberate as he spoke in a mock thoughtful tone. He gave another hum, tapped the smooth metal panel in front of him, before taking a step closer to Toris's side. "Because you were standing right beside me when I pressed button."

Toris stiffened, shifting away slightly as Sickle continued his slow, lazy approach. "Ivan," he began, but Sickle was quick to jump back in.

"Just like you were there all those other times," he reminded him. His large gloved hand grasped Toris's wrists, pulling it towards him in a way that was demanding, yet surprisingly gentle. "You were there through it all. Your hands are just as dirty as mine."

"I can't do this anymore, Ivan," Toris sighed as he tucked away the files he had been clenching in his hands. "I can't... we have to stop before more innocent people get hurt."

Sickle stared at him, his gaze level and unchanging, much like the little smile he was still sporting. There was a brief flicker of disappointment in his gaze, but it was gone in an instant as his hold on Toris slipped away. "There is no going back," he told him. "We can only move forward."

He turned away from him then, marching steadily towards the door that slid open causing light to pour into the once dim room. Toris watched as Red Sickle's silver cape fluttered and swished behind him and he knew deep inside exactly what he had to do.

\--

The cave was much deeper than Alfred had originally thought. He had been walking for quite some time and still hadn't found the end. He turned around, glancing back towards where the entrance was and found that he could not see the glow from their fire.

Alfred hummed as he bent down to pick up a small rock at his feet. He tossed the stone into the darkness spread out in front of him and listened as it clicked and clunked further down the tunnel, the sounds echoing clearly back to him.

It was sort of cool, Alfred thought, but not nearly as cool as an adventure should have been. Although this adventure wasn't turning out anything like he had imagined. So far it had started off terrifying and had settled into being out right dull.

A part of him ached at that thought, because this terrifying-dull adventure had killed Uncle Gil.

His thoughts came to an end when he realized that the ground was beginning to shake and that the air in the cave was starting to get a lot warmer. The darkness in front of him, that had seemed almost endless just moments ago, was starting to disappear as a bright orange light bloomed before his eyes. The makeshift torch that he had been holding in his hands went clattering to the floor as Alfred sped away, knowing from the whooshing hot wind and the loud crackling in the air that a massive fire was right on his heels.

"Mattie!" Alfred screamed as he came running towards his brother. "Mattie! Mattie, we gotta move!"

Mattie didn't have much time to respond, or even budge, because the second Alfred spotted his brother he grabbed his arms and dragged him to his feet. He wanted to run as fast as he could, but Alfred knew that doing so would only hurt Mattie, who'd never be able to keep pace with him, so instead he jogged -- which to anyone else would seem like a frantic dash -- towards the mouth of the cave, feeling the flames licking at their heels all the while.

As soon as they reached the open night air just outside, Alfred pulled Mattie towards the slopping hills beside the cave, far away from the massive fires that were practically exploding out of the cavern's mouth. The two of them watched with wide eyes and trembling legs as everything they had left inside -- namely, Pops's duffle bag and the dried twigs and piles of rocks that had served as their fire pit -- burned away.

"Whuh... what happened?" Mattie sputtered as they watched the flames die away and the orange glow fade into blackness.

"The cave tried to kill us!" Alfred announced as he went to stomp out a few blades of grass that had caught fire. The last thing he wanted was for the whole island to go up in flames while their dads were away. He had seen those Smokey the Bear commercials on TV, so he knew it could happen.

"Alfie, look up there."

He turned towards Mattie and saw that he was pointing up in the air. Alfred raised his eyes towards the sparkling blanket of stars above them and saw that there was now a thick column of smoke spewing out of the mountain and towards the sky. He had a feeling the smoke and the massive cave fire were connected.

"Those guys must have launched something off the island," Mattie reasoned as he came to stand closer to Alfred's side.

"Do you think they sent it into space?" Alfred wondered as he twisted his head around to get a better look at the sky.

"No. It looks like whatever it was turned. If it was going to space, it would've gone straight up, eh?"

Alfred nodded. That seemed to make sense. "Maybe it was another missile."

Alfred could tell by the way Mattie's face crumpled into a sad frown that he was thinking along those same lines, and was no doubt reliving the whole incident on the plane. Alfred suddenly wished he hadn't opened his big mouth.

"We gotta find somewhere else to hide," he said, tugging at Mattie's elbow in order to get his attention. "I don't wanna go back into that cave. They might launch something else."

"We shouldn't go far," Mattie reasoned. "Papa will be looking for us here, eh?"

Alfred nodded before moving towards a line of trees just ahead. "Let's go this way."

\--

Emma hummed as she studied the list of numbers the boys had left with her. One of them -- the one for their family friend -- didn't seem to be working, because every time she tried to call she got a strange message. She reasoned that it was wrong, because Matthew had been in a hurry to catch up with his brother when she had gotten there and had likely forgotten a few numbers in his frantic state. It was a disappointment to be sure, because she wanted to ask him to come over and check on things. 

Everything had been fine until bath. Just after, really. Emma had toweled and dried off Angelique -- who had splashed up a storm in the tub, but had behaved well otherwise -- and was just about to put her down for the night when the baby had started fussing and pointing at one of the pictures on the wall. It was a very nice big photograph of her fathers and brothers, one that had likely been taken a year or two before she had been born. Emma knew right away from her years as a babysitter that Angelique was trying to ask Emma where her family had gone and Emma had responded by giving her back a firm pat and kissing her damp cheek.

"They're not here, cutie," Emma had crooned. "They'll be back tomorrow. I promise."

It had all gone wrong from there, because Angelique kept disappear, leaving only large puddles of water in her place, and the lights kept flickering on and off and little holes would appear along the walls and floor. When Angelique did reappear she would be just fine, only a little damp, but Emma was still freaking out.

A part of her wondered if the house was haunted, but that was ridiculous because there was no such thing as ghosts. Still, the walls...

She punched in Mr. Bonnefoy's number, which worked just fine, but no one had picked up for hours and all of her messages were just clogging up the voicemail box. The automated message droned away in her ears, until a steady beep cut through, signaling for her to leave her message.

"Hello Mr. Bonnefoy, it's Emma again," she said as she glanced around the small kitchen one more time. She had just finished mopping up a large puddle by the refrigerator and somewhere out in the halls the pet bird was twittering away, but there was still no sign of Angelique. "Everything's okay, but I just wanted to ask a few questions about Angelique... and the house. Is there something wrong with your pipes? Because there seems to be a lot of leaking. And... well, I think that you may have termites, because _something_ is eating away at the floors. Also, I know this is kinda personal, but did you forget to pay your bills? The power keeps flickering in and-"

Her words were cut off when the lights went out one more time. Somewhere in the darkness of the little house, sparks began to fly and the bird tweeted even louder. Emma groaned, because this was definitely not worth the twelve dollars an hour Matthew had promised.

\--

Morning couldn't have come soon enough for Alfred, because he was certain that he never wanted to spend another night sleeping outside like this ever again. There was a rock under his head and every inch of his body was being poked by something hard and prickly and the piercing light of the new morning was really starting to sting at his eyes. 

He groaned as he turned over, his arm colliding with something soft and sturdy. When he opened his eyes, he was only sort of surprised to see that it was Mattie, who looked as if he were having a lot more success sleeping than he was. Alfred grunted as he pushed himself into a sitting position in order to get a better look at his twin. Mattie's hands were pillowed beneath his head and his body was curled into a tight ball. From the looks of things, he had probably found a better patch of grass than Alfred, but he shrugged it off. At least one of them was rested.

He watched as a small lizard poked its head out from the grass and began crawling along Mattie's legs. Alfred carefully picked it up by its tail and placed it back on the ground, shooing it away. He continued to pick out twigs and leaves from Mattie's hair before going to work on his own.

Alfred sighed, looking around the jungle that was currently bathed in an orange sort of glow. Everything was still and calm and there didn't seem to be anyone around for miles.

Alfred had thought that Pops would be back by now. He had felt certain that he would wake up to find the Dads sitting beside them, waiting for him and Mattie to wake up. When they did, they would all hug and Pops would smile and tell them that they defeated the bad guys and had found a way home. It didn't look like that was going to happen.

Dad was probably still being held hostage, Pops was probably still looking for him, and Alfred and Mattie were still on their own. A small part of him was sort of glad, because that meant their adventure was going to last a little longer, but a bigger part just wanted to go home because this was all getting sort of weird and creepy.

He stood, stretching his arms and legs before going to work brushing grass and leaves from his suit. Mattie was a heavy sleeper and probably wouldn't be awake for hours, so Alfred would have to keep watch until then. His stomach rumbled and another sigh escaped his lips.

"I'm hungry," he whispered to himself, because he hadn't had anything to eat in a while. Pops' duffle bag had had a few cereal bars in it and he and Mattie had eaten two before the giant fire that'd almost killed them. That had been hours ago and suddenly all Alfred could think about was breakfast.

" _Voice key requested._ "

Alfred looked around, his eyes darting this way and that in search of the new noise. The voice had sounded strangely robotic, probably pre-recorded and a part of him thought that his tired mind was just playing tricks on him.

That was until his eyes landed on a small blue parrot. The bird was clearly robotic and looked as if it had just escaped from the Enchanted Tiki Room in Disney World. Only unlike those birds with their funny accents and playful songs, this one looked a bit sinister and Alfred had a feeling it had everything to do with its glowing red eyes.

" _Voice key requested,_ " the bird chimed once again and Alfred watched as its little orange beak flapped opened and shut with a soft metallic clink.

"Hey Mattie," Alfred cried as he sprinted towards Mattie's still sleeping form. He gave his shoulder a few good shakes and watched as Mattie blinked and groaned until he was awake. "Mattie, you gotta see this," Alfred said as he dragged him to his feet. Mattie was probably still half asleep, but he allowed himself to be lead away, because Alfred's grip was strong and insistent. "It's a robot bird."

" _Voice key requested. Identify._ "

Mattie blinked, frowning up at the bird and its eerie voice. "Voice key?" he repeated, cocking his head curiously. The bird's red eyes narrowed and expanded, as if it had been listening to them and disliked what it'd heard. "Wait a minute," he began, but it was already too late for whatever he was going to say.

The bird's wings spread open and its body tipped forward as if it were about to fly away, but instead it opened its beak and a shrill siren's wail cut through the once still air. Mattie cringed, Alfred groaned, and they both knew that something horrible had happened.

"Run!" Mattie cried as he took off towards the thicket of trees.

"Where?" Alfred returned as he easily caught up with his brother. It would have been no trouble at all for him to zoom past Mattie, but Pops had told them to stay together and Alfred would have felt like scum if he just left Mattie behind when they were very clearly in danger.

"Anywhere!" Mattie panted as he continued to hop over protruding roots and dip below low branches. "Away from _here_!"

Alfred nodded and they continued to run, ducking and jumping and turning here and there, but it didn't do them any good. In an instant the boys found themselves surrounded by men in creepy suits, armed with massive guns, all trained on them. It was just as Pops had told them; these men didn't seem to care that they were children and looked ready to kill.

"Alright kiddies," one of the men said as he leveled the muzzle of his rifle at Mattie's chest. "Don't move."

"Look at their suits," another man said, nodding towards the large white emblems on their chests. "Do you think their Supers?"

"Alfie, remember what Papa said," Mattie whispered.

Alfred did remember. He remembered everything Pops had said last night. About how they had to keep their masks on and their wits about them and that they had to stick together and that they could be killed and...

"Hey, no talking!" one man barked.

"Alfred, run," Mattie hissed and when Alfred turned to look at him, he saw that he was looking at empty air. " _Run_!"

"They are Supers!" another guard cried. Bullets pierced the air, but Alfred was already sprinting away, sparing only a quick glance back towards Mattie before zooming into the tangle of trees and bushes with the guards hot on his trailer.

\--

Captain Invincible looked dead, even though the machines monitoring his vitals said otherwise. His body was still limp and his eyes were downcast. Toris wasn't sure if he were unconscious or lost in self loathing thoughts, but that wasn't important at the moment. What mattered was that he was alive and that time wasn't on their side.

The guards had all left. Red Sickle had called most of them away to monitor the rocket's progress while the rest were responding to activity out in the jungle. It was a blessing and a curse because while it gave Toris this opportunity, it meant that somewhere else on the island there was danger.

"Captain Invincible?" he began. His voice was probably a bit too soft for the defeated Super, so he tried again. "Captain Invincible." This time, Invincible's body twitched and while his head didn't move, Toris knew that he was listening. "We don't have much time, so you have to listen to what I'm going to tell you. I am going to get you out of here."

"Why?" Invincible groaned as he glanced up at Toris with dark, hooded eyes that spoke of only torment and pain for the next man who crossed him. "Has your demented boss finally decided to put me out of my misery?"

"N-not exactly," Toris stuttered as he inched closer towards the control panel. "I have reason to believe your rescue party is still alive and here on the island."

"What?" Invincible cried. His eyes were wide and his body tensed and Toris was glad that he had finally got the man's full attention. At least now he knew he would be able to free him without fearing another attack. His arms were still stinging from the last time.

"Last night, our security cameras caught a man in a red suit identical to yours attacking three guards," he informed him as he punched his personal security code into the panel. The energy fields suspending Invincible's arms and legs evaporated and the heavy black cuffs encasing his limbs cracked open, releasing him from their hold. It all had the unfortunate effect of causing Invincible to collapse to the floor like a sack of potatoes, but at least he was free. "I have reason to believe that it was Monsieur Élastique. I managed to suppress the tapes, but if he's still within the facilities, then someone will find him soon."

His body seized and his head buzzed as Invincible snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around Toris's waist. When no pain came from the gesture, Toris relaxed, realizing that Invincible's only intention was to give him a stiff and somewhat awkward hug. "Thank you," Invincible whispered as he gave Toris a slight squeeze. "Thank you."

Toris wanted to relax into the embrace, but the sound of the door chiming as it slid open caused his insides to fill with panic. For one horrifying moment, he was certain that Sickle had spotted him and prepared himself for the worst. Yet he relaxed when he twisted free of Invincible's arms and saw that it was only the red suited Super, Monsieur Élastique, standing in the doorway.

"Oh. Well, it is an honor to meet you, Monsieur Élast-" Toris began, but was cut off when a fist came sailing from across the room and towards his jaw. Pain exploded in front of his eyes and Toris was certain that he blacked out for at least a minute, because the next thing he knew, he was laying on his back watching as Captain Invincible and Monsieur Élastique argued heatedly with one another over his body.

".. and _this_ is how I find you?" Élastique was saying as he waved angrily towards Toris, but didn't bother to look down at him.

"Yes Francis, I was cheating on you," Invincible sneered sarcastically as he rolled his eyes at the Super. Apparently Invincible and Élastique weren't simply former colleagues or current teammates and the "wife" Toris had read about in Invincible's file was the middle aged French man standing above him. "This entire time I wasn't being held against my will, I was in here making love to a man half my age. Is _that_ what you want to hear?"

"I would not be surprised to hear it, given all the _stupid_ things you have done lately."

"Stupid! Do you know what's 'stupid'? This! This argument is stupid, because just last night I thought that you and the children had been blown to bits in midair all because of _me_ and now I... I..." Tears trickled down Invincible's masked eyes and Toris watched as Élastique's demeanor momentarily softened, allowing himself to be pulled towards Invincible who pressed their lips together in a firm kiss. "I thought I'd lost you," Invincible whispered as he continued to hold Élastique in his arms. "I thought I'd lost everything."

"You are not out of the woods, yet," Élastique chided gently.

"He's right," Toris groaned, knowing full well that he and Élastique were talking about two completely different things, but it was an opportunity to move things along and he was going take it. He shifted on the floor, pushing himself into a sitting position and cradling his sore jaw in his hands. "Someone triggered an alarm this morning. Two children were spotted in the jungle, wearing red suits like yours."

"Alfred! Mathieu!" Élastique shrieked, his skin turning visibly pale at the idea of the two boys being in danger. "This is all _your_ fault!" he sneered before he leapt over Toris's body and sprinted towards the door.

"Well, _you're_ the one that brought them here!" Invincible countered as he followed close behind him. "You should have known that they'd be in danger."

The two Supers disappeared down the hall, but Toris was still able to hear their pointed jabs and barked words echoing along the walls. He took a moment to chuckle softly as he pushed himself to his feet. He had a feeling that those two would be just fine, and if their children were anything like them, so would they.


	10. A Whole Family of Supers

Captain Invincible had to admit that Francis... Monsieur Élastique looked quite good in his suit. It had been startling, of course, to see his husband dressed in an almost duplicate replica of the costume that Feliciano had made for him, but it had also been oddly thrilling, because Fran... _Élastique_ had kept himself in fairly good shape over the years as evidence by the fact that he was keeping a fairly steady pace with Invincible as they frantically sprinted through a thick jungle in the middle of a tropical isle. A part of Invincible felt a bit proud of his husband, but a bigger part of him was too busy feeling ashamed of himself, because despite the mortal danger that they were currently in his eyes kept drifting towards Élastique's backside in order to get a better glance of just how the fabric was clinging to him.

"...and hiding the fact that you had been _fired_ ," Élastique was saying and Invincible remembered then that they were still in the middle of an argument, "for a whole _month_! What were you thinking? What would have happened if you had not gotten this 'job'?"

Invincible frowned as he quickened his steps until he was running abreast Élastique. "Fine, I admit that I should have told you about Insuricare shacking me," he relented, "but I didn't want to burden you-"

"Burden me?" Élastique cut in with an indignant huff. "With the truth? Ah, oui, we must always keep poor simple Francis in the dark about all things that are not related to shopping and cooking! He is completely useless in all other areas."

"That's not what I was going to say," Invincible said wearily. "I was going to say that I didn't want to burden you with the pressures of being the family's sole bread winner. I knew how it felt and I didn't want to put that sort of stress on you."

"So once again you are saying that I do not make a significant contribution to the family's finances?"

Invincible huffed, rolling his eyes at his husband's ever dramatic nature. "Once again you are putting words in my mouth and And why do you _insist_ on fighting with me?" he demanded. "Can't you simply let me enjoy the fact that you are still alive? Or am I not allowed even that simple pleasure?"

"You may have your simple pleasures when we find the children and make certain that they are both alright."

The mere mention of the boys was enough to quicken Invincible's pace as he sprinted through the tangled mass of trees with renewed vigor. He hoped that the boys had managed to find somewhere safe to hide after tripping the alarms and were safely concealed from Red Sickle's security team. Invincible had to admit that the guards here were a bit brighter and better trained than most of the goons he had gone up against back in his Superhero days and that made them a very serious threat to two super powered boys who had little experience using their gifts beyond the childish games and pranks they pulled on one another for fun.

_I should have trained them properly,_ Invincible thought bitterly. _Federal laws be damned, I should have trained them! They need to know how to defend themselves._

"If any of those Neanderthals harm as much as a single _hair_ on their heads, I'll rip them to pieces," Invincible nearly growled.

"Not if I get to them first," Élastique swore and with those thoughts in mind the two managed to quicken their pace.

\--

Alfred had never run this fast or this hard in his life. He had thought for certain that by now his lungs would be burning, his legs would feel wobbly, or that sweat would be pouring over him, but none of that was happening. He was -- with all things considered -- fine, or at least he would have been if it weren't for those guys following his every turn.

He spared a glance over his shoulder -- an unnecessary gesture given that the massive _whoosh whoosh buzz_ sound emitting from those crazy flying saucers with razor blades churning around them was impossible to ignore -- and saw that there were at least two suited men flying behind him. It was a horrifying sight, watching as those flying buzz saws cut through the greenery of the jungle like it was nothing more than tissue paper.

One of the men noticed him looking back and rewarded Alfred's curiosity by opening fire on him. 

Alfred yelped and picked up speed. This was the first time in his life that anyone had ever fired a gun at him and his heart went rocketing to life in his chest at the thought that one of those bullets could have hit him. It was enough to set a fire inside of him.

He swerved left, hoping to lose the guards in the thicker tangle of the jungle, but only found himself caught up in even rockier terrain. Alfred jumped over a fallen branch, stumbled over a sharp rock, and was nearly strangled by a low hanging vine.

_I'm gonna die,_ he thought to himself as the buzz of the churning blades grew louder in his ears. Clearly those guys were better pilots than he'd hoped and their saucer things were almost as fast as him. _I can't out run them,_ he thought in despair, before his thoughts suddenly shifted. _No. No, I can out run them. I_ have to _out run them!_

The wind was blowing against his face to hard that it made his eyes sting and the leaves and grass was whipping by him harsh and fast, causing little cuts and scrapes against his cheeks, but Alfred wasn't thinking about any of that. All he was thinking about was his dads, because wherever they were, he knew they would be back soon and he and Mattie had to be there to meet them so they could all go home. He had to out run these guys, he had to get back to Mattie, and he had to see his dads again.

\--

Mattie could quite honestly say that he had no idea what he was doing. His original plan had been to hide, just hide until the guards were gone and Alfred came back once he lost those men who were chasing him. Then they'd sit and wait for the dads to come find them and get them off the island.

That plan wasn't going to work, because Mattie may have been invisible, but it was impossible to disappear when skilled men with guns and seemingly well trained senses were looking for you. 

This jungle was thick and lush and the ground was covered with dried twigs, dead leaves, and fallen branches and Mattie couldn't make a move without stepping on something and the sound of a snap or a crunch would be enough to get the attention of the guards. One of the men would always manage to swivel in his direction and open fire whenever he made a wrong move. The ground would erupt into a cloud of dirt and shredded grass as the bullets sunk into the earth and Mattie would always thank his stars that so far none of them had managed to pick up his exact location. 

A bullet had come dangerously close to grazing his leg once and Mattie still shuddered at the feel of the air pulsing pass him like that. He didn't know whether or not his suit was bullet proof, but he wasn't eager to find out any time soon. He couldn't use his force fields, because Mattie could keep himself transparent while creating one, but the fields of purple energy sprouting in the air would be more than enough to draw attention to his location.

Needless to say, he felt trapped. His feet felt as if they had sunken into the ground and taken root and his heart was buzzing so frantically that he was certain it would be enough to alert one of the men who were pointing the muzzles of their rifles this way and that. He couldn't hide and he couldn't keep ducking the guards forever.

_What would Uncle Gil do?_ he thought to himself, because he knew that Uncle Gil would have said that hiding was for wimps and that Mattie needed to take action. 

There were only two guards and he supposed that it was better than being completely surrounded. He looked around him, hoping that there was something he could use as a weapon (and silently cursed the genetic lottery for not giving him a more offensive power like laser vision or heat breath). His toe nudged a large tree branch and Mattie waited until both men turned their backs towards him to pick it up, holding the narrow end as if it were the base of a club.

He was disappointed -- although not surprised -- to see that the limb hadn't gone transparent along with him, but he supposed that it was good enough.

Mattie crept towards the closet guard and aimed for the back of the knee, knowing that one good blow would be enough to send him crashing to the ground. He wound up and swung, the hunk of wood connecting to the man's leg as a heavy _oof_ escaped him. The man went down like a bag of hammers and Mattie was quick to bring his club down on his head. Mattie could tell from the way his head lulled to the side that he was unconscious, but he didn't get much time to savor his victory as a single bullet went whizzing through the air. The blunt end of his make shift weapon exploded into a flurry of splinters and Mattie was quick to drop it and take a hasty step back.

Bullets flew through the air, but once again they went wide and Mattie decided to take cover in the nearby stream of water in order to keep his footsteps from being seen or heard among the spray of gun fire.

"Alright kid," the guard said as he lowered his rifle ever so slightly, "why don't you just come out and make all this a lot easier on yourself?"

Mattie wanted to laugh at that, because the sentiment was hard to believe coming from a man who had just knowingly opened fire on an unarmed child.

He was momentarily distracted by his thoughts and it was just long enough for the guard to grab a handful of dirt and toss it into the stream. A cloud of dirt plumed around his ankles, clear enough to illustrate exactly where he was standing. He watched with growing horror as the man raised the muzzle of his gun, leveling it almost exactly at his head.

"I've got ya now kid," the man sneered.

Mattie felt his heart tighten in his chest. He was ready to create another force field, knowing that it probably wouldn't be up in time to stop the first bullet. 

It didn't matter though, because the gun never got a chance to go off. A large red blur suddenly appeared out of thin air and knocked the man clean off of his feet. Mattie blinked several times, before allowing his eyes to settle on the sight of Alfred on top of the guard, his fists raining down on the guard's face with lightning fast speed.

"Don't touch my brother!" Alfred barked, his words nearly drowned out by the sound of his knuckles slamming into the man's abused cheeks. 

"Alfred!" Mattie cried out in delight, allowing himself to become visible once again in order to greet his brother.

He instantly regretted his decision to speak, because it caused Alfred to turn his head towards him and allowed the guard just enough time to recover himself and punch Alfred in the jaw. Alfred was fairly strong for his age, but the guard was _at least_ twice his size and the blow was enough to send Alfred flying through the air and landing flat on his back in the dirt.

"Alfred!" Mattie practically screamed when he watched his brother's body crumple on the ground just a few feet away.

Mattie's heart stilled in his chest as the man got to his feet and began to train his gun on Alfred. Mattie wouldn't let that happen, because Alfred had saved him from a bullet to the gut and the least Mattie could do was return the favor. He charged towards his brother's side and leapt into the air, summoning a field of energy as he did so. The ball of purple energy ballooned in mid air, wrapping itself around him and Alfred and sent the bullets bouncing off and hitting only dirt.

"How are you doing that?" Alfred asked as he motioned towards the way Mattie's body was still hovering above him.

"Uh... I just am," Mattie said, because he honestly wasn't putting any thought into this, but was somehow able to stay afloat and keep Alfred safely encased with him.

"Well, just keep doing it," Alfred instructed as he pushed at the energy field's stiff walls, causing it to roll on the ground. Mattie felt as if they were trapped in a giant hamster ball as Alfred rolled them to safety, but he had to admit  all things considered  this was pretty cool.

\--

"How big is this damn island?" Élastique panted as he continued to trot through the jungle, only with rapidly decreasing vigor. Apparently Élastique wasn't as fit for this type of action as Invincible had suspected. Either that or all the time and energy that he had put into locating Invincible these past few hours were finally starting to take their toll on him.

Invincible gave a slight sigh as he slowed his pace to match Élastique's, allowing himself to jog side by side with him. He looked around the island with a critical eye. He had in fact spent more time on this land than Élastique had, but it wasn't nearly enough to make heads or tails of where they were, given that everything looked incredibly similar. Not only that, he was -- admittedly -- no great tracker and wouldn't be able to find Alfred and Matthew in a place like this with only his wits as his guide.

"I knew that we should have gotten them those cell phones they wanted for Christmas," Élastique sighed as he slowed to a gradual halt, bending forward in order to take long gulps of breath and ease the flush painting his cheeks. "This would be so much easier if we had."

"Why? Do _you_ have a mobile on?" Invincible countered, taking the opportunity to catch his breath as well.

Élastique said nothing. He only continued to pant and breathe and allow his limbs to regain their strength.

Invincible sighed as he took a step closer to Élastique's side and pressed a gloved hand against his warm shoulder. He could feel his muscles coiling and pulsing underneath the fabric and Invincible had to admit that he wanted to hug him, but he knew better than to attempt to do so at the moment.

"We'll take a moment to catch our breaths and then we'll look some more."

"I do not want to catch my breath," Élastique nearly huffed as he straightened himself. "I want to find my children."

Invincible knew exactly how he felt, because in that moment all he wanted was to see Alfred and Matthew again and make absolutely certain that they were alright.

"Wait a minute. Do you hear that?" Invincible asked suddenly as his ears perked up at the sound of something large and fast crunching down on fallen wood and snapping vines. He twisted his head towards the horizon as his whole body tensed, because he was certain that this was all part of some trap set up by Red Sickle.

Élastique's head picked up, his body snapping to attention as he turned to stare in the same direction that the noise was coming from. 

In an instant it was on them, a giant purple ball of energy smacking them in the face like they were nothing more than rubber toys to be stepped on and tossed away. Yet the energy ball dissolved just as quickly as it appeared and when it did Invincible and Élastique soon found themselves lying flat on their backs with Alfred and Matthew sprawled out on top of them.

"Dad! Papa!" the twins chorused, giggling and squirming as they wrapped their arms around them.

"Oh mes enfants!" Élastique swooned as he quite literally wrapped his arms around the twins.

"Boys! You're alright," Invincible laughed, his heart expanding in pure joy as he pressed the bodies of his children flush against him. He beamed, kissing their cheeks and breathing in their wonderful scent. The feelings were so intense that his eyes stung with the need to cry. "I thought I'd never see you again."

They stayed like that for a while, hugging and laughing and acting like complete fools as they enjoyed the fact that they were all alive and well. In many ways, it felt as if they were home again.

The family reunion was interrupted far too soon as another strange noise greeted his ears. This time it was a churning, buzzing, sawing type of noise that was approaching far too rapidly for Invincible's liking. He got to his feet quickly, noticing from the corner of his eyes that Élastique had caught on and was straightening himself as well, and his body once again went ridged.

There were two of them -- one man vehicles shaped like flying saucers with razor blades swirling viciously around them -- and they cut their way through the jungle and straight towards the four of them. Invincible ducked as one of them zoomed right over his head and even with the churning, whirling buzz of the vehicles in his ears, he could tell from the sound of shuffling of feet that Élastique was currently ushering the children away and hopefully towards safety.

Invincible had never been in this sort of situation before. He had seen children threaten, endangered -- every Super had -- but never in all of his years had he ever imagined that his own children...

One of the men opened fire and Invincible was quick to dodge the stream of bullets that only managed to hit the ground and send clouds of dirt floating around them. A hot, heavy heat began pulsing its way through his body and Invincible found his fists swinging in the smoky air even as the saucer like hovercraft came flying at him. He felt his hand hit the smooth metal base, his knuckles puncturing a decent sized hole with a satisfying crack, and it didn't take long for the small craft to begin wobbling and scrambling about as its trajectory was suddenly knocked off course.

A red clothed arm stretched into his line of sight and Invincible watched as Élastique grabbed the off balanced vehicle's controls and sent it flinging into the other craft. The two metal pods burst in mid air, exploding into a flash of fire and smoke and despite the fact that two men had quite literally met a fiery end right before their eyes, Invincible took the opportunity to turn towards Élastique and smile. A mutual gleam of pride twinkled behind his partner's masked eyes and Invincible felt reassured for the first time that day that there was still love in there.

"Uh, wow," he heard Matthew whispered, his voice heavy with awe, and the simple words were enough to cause a small chuckle to erupt from Invincible's and Élastique's lips.

Their laughter was quickly cut short as the sound of more saucers, along with the unmistakable pounding of booted feet, greeted their ears. They were ready for them this time, all four of them, and Invincible had to hold back his shock when he noticed Alfred literally running circles around their small group. The boy's body was little more than a blur of red in his eyes and within less than a second a thick curtain of dust had engulfed them, making it impossible for their attackers to aim at any one of them.

One of the men tried anyway, opening fire blindly, but Matthew had already managed to create a sizable force field in front of himself, blocking the bullets and sending them whizzing uselessly this way and that. A guard on foot tried to sneak up behind Matthew and take a shot at him, but Élastique had seen him coming and grabbed the man by his collar and flung him into Invincible's direction. He was sure to greet the man's jaw with the full force of his fist.

They went on like that for some time, taking out each thug and armed goon with all the ease of a well oiled machine, and for a moment Invincible was starting to feel good about their odds.

That too ended quickly.

In a flash Invincible found his body grow incredibly stiff and he was disheartened when, despite his best efforts, he couldn't turn his head let alone relax his arm from the tightly wound punch in had been about to deliver. His eyes were the only thing able to move and he saw that Élastique and the boys were now equally motionless, their bodies wrapped in an eerie red light that was emitting from somewhere just out of sight.

"Now now, that will be enough, da?"

A chill ran up Invincible's spine as his eyes locked with Red Sickle's white clad figure. A small smirk was curling at the corner of his lips as he raised his arms, effectively lifting all four of them into the air and bringing them closer to his line of sight. Down below, the surviving men were grunting and groaning and clutching their heads in pain while Sickle was chuckling like someone who had just discovered a fantastic new game.

"I see that your comrades managed to come for you after all, Captain Invincible," he laughed, but the sound came to a sharp halt when his bright eyes locked onto something. Invincible saw that he was staring at Élastique, his arms long and frozen in a noodle like position that made his identity unmistakable. "Monsieur Élastique?" Red Sickle nearly gasped, and for a moment he sounded like a boy standing in awe of some great figure. "I should have recognized voice! It was _you_ on the plane. And you _did_ bring children." His gaze shifted to Alfred and Matthew and Invincible longed for the ability to move just so he could tear that monster's eyes out for even looking at his boys. "Yours?" he asked Invincible casually, before turning towards Élastique again. "Or yours?"

Neither of them answered, because it was impossible to move their tongues let along their jaws while trapped in Red Sickle's beam.

"No matter," Red Sickle chuckled in delight. "I have special treat for all of you."

\--

He was back in the cell, they all were, and not for the first time Invincible found himself wishing that this was all some sort of nightmare that he was soon to wake from. He closed his eyes against the dimness of the prison chamber and imagined himself in bed about to be awoken by that damn alarm and trudge off to another day of mind numbing work. In that moment, he would have been more than happy to sit hunched over his pathetic desk, in his dreary little cubicle, while that damned Mr. Zwingli chewed him out for some inane fault.

Yet when he opened his eyes he did not see dingy walls under harsh fluorescent lights. He saw a dark room lit by the glow of a large monitor. The screen was split into eight small images, each one of them broadcasting a different news program that was reporting on a strange object that had plummeted from the sky and landed in the middle of a busy street. Invincible recognized the city -- it was just down town of their home, perhaps a few blocks away from Antonio's apartment -- and worse still, he recognized the object that was attracting so much attention. 

It was the Omnidroid. Its large black body was unmistakable, and from the way the pavement had dented and cracked beneath it, Invincible could tell that it hadn't landed very neatly. He briefly hoped that no one had been hurt from that, but he knew that there were much bigger things at stake.

"Ta-dah!" Red Sickle chimed as he walked in front of the large screen, waving his arms grandly at the chaos he had created. "We have reached favorite part: where I reveal master plan."

"You mean you're gonna monologue for us?" Alfred asked dully and was quickly rewarded with a glare so deep and hateful that the boy actually recoiled from it.

The look evaporated in the blink of an eye and Red Sickle was soon smiling triumphantly at the monitor's haunting glow once again. "I have been waiting for this day," Red Sickle said slowly, proudly. "Planning for years. Soon Omnidroid will emerge from its pod and wreck havoc on defenseless city. Then, when all hope seems lost, I will save day. 

"Everyone will love me."

"So you're telling me that you've spent millions of dollars creating a machine to _kill_ actual Supers, just so you can play pretend?" Invincible sneered more than asked, and repeating the words did little to make it seem less ridiculous.

"I _am_ real Super," Sickle told him firmly. "I am better than all others that came before me, because I _earned_ the power that I now wield."

"Ivan," Invincible began, struggling not to seethe or sneer or ground out his words, because he _needed_ to try to reason with this maniac for the sake of his family. Surely there was _some_ shred of dignity trapped within him. "I know that you're hurt and angry, but _they're_ not the ones you should be upset with. I'm the one you really want. Please. Call off the Omnidroid. It's not too late."

Sickle hummed, turning his head this way and that, and Invincible could see even before the smile on his lips grew wider than he wasn't considering a thing that had been said. "Sorry. No."

"Then let my family go!" he urged. "Please. My boys... they're just children."

Again, Sickle was unmoved, and his violet eyes swept over the twins' stunned face with cold indifference. "No," he told him flatly. "Then must pay too."

"And you will die like a dog in the street!" Élastique seethed in a way that made Invincible's head twist. Despite the electrodes binding his limbs Élastique's body was still thrumming, trembling with a quiet rage that Invincible felt nearly burned by. "I will make sure of it."

"I would like to see you try," Sickle chortled. He smiled at each of them in turn, gave the family a friendly wave, before pivoting towards the door. 

The images on the screen slowly blinked off one by one, like candles slowly being blown out by a soft puff of breath, and soon the room was plummeted into a thick darkness. The only source of light came from the electricity holding them in mid air and it only helped to encase their bodies in a sad sort of glow.

"I'm sorry," Invincible found himself saying and the words crawled out of his mouth in a painful trudge passed the tight lump welling in his throat. He lolled his head to his left in order to meet Matthew's wide eyed gaze before turning to his right to stare at Élastique and Alfred. "I'm so sorry that I've gotten you all into this mess. This is all my fault. I thought that... I thought that my live was pathetic, meaningless. I thought that if I could be a Super again then I... then everything would feel worthwhile and new." Heat crawled into his eyes and blurred his vision and Invincible soon found his head bowing in shame as he squeezed his lids shut against the humiliated tears. "It was stupid of me to hurt you, all of you, by throwing myself into these selfish fantasies. I was so caught up in my own self pity that I didn't realize how... how lucky I am to have the life that I do.

"I see now that... that the only reason my life has any mean is because of my family." He lifted his head and looked towards Élastique, Francis, and was rewarded with the sight of a warm, watery smile pulling at those dear lips. "I promise you that if we make it out of this, I will..."

"That was a great speech, Dad."

Invincible blinked as he turned his head to his left and saw that Matthew was no longer hovering by his side. Instead he was now standing at the control panel, having somehow managed to free himself while Invincible was speaking.

Matthew smiled at him, wide and mischievous and Invincible wanted to squeeze the breath out of him. "And as nice as it was to hear you say all that, I'm sure you'll agree that it's time we escaped now."

\--

"Alright, what is the plan?"

Invincible glanced to his side and saw Élastique calmly sprinting alongside him, keeping in step with him and the children as they ran through the pristine white halls. It was astonishing how empty the facility already was, but apparently most of Red Sickle's men had evacuated or been called away after their detention. He had a feeling that a good chunk of the staff was no longer needed now that Sickle's "master plan" had been enacted.

"We're going to find a way off this island, find Red Sickle, and stop him before he lets the Omnidroid destroy the city," Invincible said coolly as they continued to run aimlessly through the halls.

"Can I just say that this is the most _awesome_ conversation we've ever had?" Alfred put in with a huff of excited glee. Invincible could tell that he wasn't winded from the run, this pace was most likely akin to crawling for Alfred, but having been trapped in such a situation for an entire day would be enough exhaust anyone.

"Noted," Invincible told him as his lips fought against the urge to twitch into a smile.

"I saw a hanger not far from here," Élastique put in as he guided them down another set of corridors.

After what felt like an eternity of mindless sprinting, the group finally came to a stop in front of a large door. Like many of the others, there were no hinges or knob, only a keypad that seemed to be card operated only. "Locked of course," Invincible noted wearily as he stared at a deep red light glowing against the wall.

"Wait a minute," Élastique announced as he began running a hand along his belt in search of something. "I picked up a keycard from one of the guards."

Invincible scoffed because he didn't feel like waiting for Élastique to pull out the card, swipe it through the reader and gamble on whether or not the thug he had lifted it from had the right level of clearance to unlock the door. Instead he gently nudged his partner aside and dug his fingers into the narrow gap between the metal door and its frame. A shrill _scrap_ pierced the air as the door was forced open, the gears pressing and grinding in protest as Invincible propped the door open with his shoulder.

"Thank you Captain _Tactless_ ," Élastique huffed haughtily as he and the boys pushed past Invincible and into the hanger.

"You always were afraid of getting your hands dirty," Invincible grumbled as he stepped into the room behind them.

"Where are all the guards?" Matthew questioned as he looked around the empty hanger.

Indeed there was no one around and in fact most of the planes were gone as well. Invincible hummed curiously before the distinct sound of laughter greeted his ears. It was then he spotted it, a small armored van tucked away at the mouth of the hanger. There were a few guards in there, at least two of them from what he could see, and Invincible was quick to motion towards Élastique and the boys to keep quiet as he tip toed towards them. Easing his way towards the van's narrow doorway, Invincible peeked in and saw that there were actually five men inside of the armored car, all of them gathered around a set of monitors currently displaying a news feed. From what Invincible could see, the Omnidroid had already emerged from its pod and was currently wandering through the city streets. People were fleeing in terror, cars were being crushed like tin cans under its feet, and Red Sickle was nowhere in sight (a fact that left Invincible at a loss over whether or not to feel relieved).

_Damn. We don't have much time left,_ Invincible thought as a few of the men began chuckling at the innocents fleeing from the robot's path.

Invincible gave a loud huff, effectively making his presence known to the small group and wasted no time in disposing of them. They were all unarmed and only a few punches and a kick here and there was enough to knock all five of them unconscious.

"The Omnidroid's already tearing through the city," Invincible announced once he emerged from within the van. 

"We have to get there quickly," Élastique noted as he looked around the empty locker frantically.

"Oh yes, and what would you like to take?" Invincible huffed as he motioned towards the empty space surrounding them. "The invisible jet? The transparent helicopter, perhaps?"

"There you go dissolving into your tiresome sarcasm, as usual," Élastique chided, stamping his foot irritably. "This is just like when we were trapped in Red Dragon's den. Why do you not try to be _helpful_ and supply some ideas instead of just being negative?"

"First of all, when we were in Red Dragon's _chamber_ we were tied together, half drugged, and surrounded by _lava_!" he reminded him. "How the bloody hell was I supposed to stay positive in that sort of situation?"

"Because a seasoned Super always keeps his head!"

"That was one of my first missions!"

"And you almost got us killed!"

"Hey!" Alfred cried out, his voice echoing towards them from somewhere far away. Invincible and Élastique pulled their eyes away from each other and turned towards the boy who was now positioned close to a shadowy part of the hanger. "What about a rocket? That's fast right?"

They trotted towards Alfred and saw that he was standing a few feet in front of a rocket that was much smaller than the other one that Invincible had seen, but looked to still be in working condition. "Good idea," Élastique said, before turning towards Invincible with a slight shrug, "but I cannot fly a rocket."

"You can't very well fly a _jet_ either," Invincible put in.

"I have experience in the cockpit!" Élastique huffed defensively.

"As a _co_ -pilot."

"Well you don't _need_ to fly a rocket," Matthew put in, pulling the conversation back in the right direction. "You just have to enter the coordinates from the last launch. That should take us to the city... Or close to it."

Invincible and Élastique took a moment to smile at one another, because it was nice to know that their boys had such good heads on their shoulders. Yet Invincible soon found his smile faltering when another thought entered his mind. "Wait a minute," he groused. "Red Sickle probably changed the code since the last launch. How are we supposed to get in now?"

"Say 'please.'"

All four of them craned their necks upward at the disembodied voice echoing towards them from the speakers overhead. Invincible soon found his eyes landing on what appeared to be a control room situated on the floor above them and behind the rows of polished glass was Laurinaitis, smiling down reassuringly at the group as he spoke into the microphone mounted on the console.

Things were slowly starting to turn in their favor.


	11. The Invincibles vs the Omnidroid

"Are we there yet?" Alfred groaned and Invincible couldn't help but feel his grip reflectively tighten in annoyance.

Not long ago Alfred had been nearly bouncing off the walls as he gushed over how "awesome" and "cool" this all was, but apparently the thrill of being inside an armored van confiscated from a terrorist group that was currently attacked to a _rocket_ being launched towards a giant robot terrorizing a defenseless city was only exciting for the first minute or so before becoming dull.

"We'll get there when we get there!" Invincible ground out for what felt like the hundredth time, only to be met with the usual response: a long whining groan and the gentle slap of Alfred's forehead colliding with the back of his seat. Invincible clenched his jaw and fought against the urge to slam his fist into the dashboard. He supposed he should expect as much from a child whose already microscopic attention span had been nearly whittled away by years of mindless video game playing and television watching.

Invincible sighed as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the grooves of the steering wheel. He couldn't really fault Alfred for feeling impatient, because even with the world zooming by beneath them time still seemed to be crawling by. Invincible felt certain that those anxious feelings were due in no small amount to the fact that every second they were in the air was another second that innocent lives spent in harm's way. Of course, the fact that this was entirely his fault didn't serve to help matters either.

He glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Alfred lulling his head this way and that as Matthew sat fidgeting in his seat with a mixture of excitement and dread and somewhere just overhead was Élastique acting as a human tether, using his elastic limbs to keep the van attached to the rocket until it was time to dismount. Clearly, none of them were keen on waiting very much longer.

"Almost there," Invincible muttered to the dashboard. "Almost there."

\--

Antonio frowned as he felt the ground beneath him shake. Not the ground, the floorboards really, but still there was a tremble that could not be the result of an earthquake, because the pounding was too steady and rhythmic and the tremors were coming far too spaced out.

He had just been about to step out the door in order to check on Francis's baby when the first boom had greeted his ears and he realized now that the booms were growing louder as the tremors grew stronger and clearly he was not going to have time to swing by his friend's house. He peaked out his bedroom window and saw it straight away: a robot, a massive ball of black metal with a glowing red scope for an eye and long tentacle like limbs snaking out from its body.

A sharp thrill ran its way through him as Antonio's body began to practically hum with glee. Suddenly he wasn't feeling so down about being left behind while Francis and Gilbert flew off towards some island, because he was about to have an adventure of his own and they were going to miss out on all the fun.

He had to fight against the urge to laugh as he ran over towards the control panel hidden just behind an old painting mounted to their bedroom wall. Antonio allowed himself a small smile as he quickly punched in the access code, because he had finally found a reason to put the secret compartment that Ludwig had installed to good use. Antonio took a step back and watched as the large bookshelf in front of him slid away as the once smooth cream colored wall split into twin doors that slipped away to reveal...

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. Not completely, because the polished silver grooves marking the space where his old Super suit _should_ have been were now clearly visible, but the suit itself was nowhere to be seen.

Antonio felt his stomach grow cold and drop to his feet as the sound of panicked screams and explosions reached his ear from just beyond the window. This was not good.

"Lovino?" Antonio called out, trying his hardest not to sound too frantic because the last thing he wanted was to upset his partner. He stepped out of the bedroom just as Lovino entered their living room, sorting through a stack of letters with an irritated scowl. "Lovino, I-"

"Did you forget your keys again?" Lovino cut in with an annoyed grumble. "They're on the counter where they always are."

"No. Not that. I-"

"Your wallet? It's probably on the dresser," Lovino told him distantly. His eyes only managed to peel away from the mail he was leafing through when another deep rumble cut through the stillness in the air and Antonio felt his stomach do a painful flip in response. "What the hell is with all that noise?" 

"A robot," Antonio found himself answering automatically and was rewarded with the sight of Lovino's eyes widening as he looked from the window to Antonio and back again.

"A robot?"

"A robot!" he cried out just as another explosion pierced the air and Antonio found himself having to shout over the panic of the outside world. "A giant robot is attacking the city! The city is in danger! Have you seen my Super suit?"

The mail was now completely forgotten, long white envelopes fluttering uselessly to the floor as they slipped from between Lovino's numbed fingers. Lovino pushed past him, rushed towards the window, and pulled back the curtains. Antonio followed and saw that the monstrous robot was currently busy stomping on cars and swishing its arms about haphazardly as people fled. He could hear the distinct sound of sirens wailing in the distance and Antonio knew that the police would not be able to deal with this sort of situation.

"I need my suit, Lovi," Antonio told him, hoping to draw Lovino's attention away from the chaos unfolding just outside their window. "I need to go out there and-"

"No."

Antonio blinked, certain that he hadn't heard the sharp word slip from his husband's lips. "No?" he repeated curiously.

"No!" Lovino barked once again as he snapped the curtains shut and pushed Antonio away from the window. "You're not going out there. You're retired dammit!"

"It doesn't matter if I'm retired," Antonio reasoned gently, because it was best to use soothing tones when Lovino was in this sort of mood. "This is the greater good we're talking about."

"The greater good my ass!" Lovino huffed as he once again shoved Antonio away from the window. "'The greater good' is likely to get you locked away. If anyone sees you out there-"

"You think I'm going to be arrested for trying to save the city?" Antonio laughed, because sometimes Lovino picked the strangest things to fret over.

"No, I think you'll be _killed_ trying to save the city!" he shot back and for the first time Antonio realized that there were tears in his eyes. He watched as Lovino fought against the urge to sniff or wipe at the wetness running down his cheek as he once again began shoving Antonio further into their apartment. "You're retired, you haven't been in a fight in years, and now you want to risk your life? For what? For _them_? For a bunch of thankless people who didn't give a damn about you every time you went out and did something stupid?

"You'll be killed. You'll die protecting them and no one will thank you. No one will cry for you except..."

Antonio didn't let Lovino say anymore. He just held him and Lovino was quick to bury his face into Antonio's still firm chest and hold him so fiercely he could have left bruises on his flesh. 

In that moment Antonio felt like what he was: old, weak, and out of practice, but even as his heart told him to just stay and hold his sobbing husband in his arms, something stronger told him to go. 

"The sun is out," he whispered soothingly. "My strength is at its peak. Francis and Gilbert are away, Arthur has disappeared, and Ludwig lives an hour away from here. I'm the only one who can help."

Lovino didn't say anything, but deep down he knew that Antonio was right. Still, right and wrong probably didn't matter much when all the old forgotten fears of long ago were suddenly all flooding back. "Fine," Lovino sniffed as he pulled away from him. He brushed the tears off of his cheek and rubbed them out of his eyes so hastily that his whole face began to turn red. "Go. See if I care. But if you die, I'm leaving you."

\--

The Omnidroid was functioning just as planned. He was causing just enough destruction and property damage to incite the right amount of panic into the people below and as the frightened lot scattered about on the ground below, Red Sickle allowed himself a moment to smile at how well his plan was playing out.

He had dreamed of this day. For years he had laid awake at night imagining this very moment, the moment when everything fell into place and the world became absolutely perfect. It was exactly how he had pictured it: upturned cars and massive chunks of rubble cluttering the streets as people scrambled to find safety. There were police sirens wailing away, gun shots firing wildly into smooth metal, and screams of panic cutting through the air. He closed his eyes against it all and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with smoke and debris filled air. It felt just like one of his dreams.

A part of him wished that Captain Invincible could be here to witness it all, but Red Sickle was quick to push that thought aside.

_I can show him tape later,_ he thought with a chuckle as he used his gravity controlled boots to float down towards the scene unfolding below him. 

The Omnidroid was currently stomping its way past an intersection, cutting through the criss-crossing electrical wires connecting traffic lights with disinterest as its massive scope continued to examine the street. It was scanning the streets for movement and its mechanical lenses must have zeroed in on a young woman scrambling to gather up her small child and escape the robot's path, because it soon picked up a mid-sized car that had been left in the center of the street and seemed intent on hurling it at the woman.

_Time I step in,_ Sickle thought, because swooping in to save a defenseless mother tending to her infant child was just the type of heroics he would need to make his debut all the more memorable.

The robot pitched the car like a ball of wadded paper and hurled it towards the two bystanders and Sickle was already approaching in anticipation. His boots sent him down lower, faster, the wind whipping the air about his face and causing his cape to billow majestically as he pressed a button on his wrist remote and aimed at the car. In an instant the vehicle was encased in his energy fields and he allowed his smile to twitch wider as a collective gasp of shocked relief rippled through the crowds. The car had only been a foot away from the woman, no doubt close enough for her to feel the heat of the energy field and smell the engine's exhaust. He heard her startle before sprinting away.

"The Supers are back!" someone shouted, not in pleasure, but merely surprise.

Sickle waited, continuing to hold the car in midair and it must have looked absurd, but he wanted to take in the full force of their reaction before continuing with his little act.

"It's Norse Star!" a different voice called out and Sickle felt his stomach sink in disappointment.

"No, Norse Star didn't have a cape."

"Oh... Wonder Shot then?"

The crowd continued to dissolve into soft whispers and speculative talk as each person took a moment to stop fleeing and proceeded to name all the old and retired Supers that he resembled. Suddenly Red Sickle was overcome with the desire to fling the car into the crowd, but decided to take a different approach to silencing their debate.

"I am not _old_ Super!" Sickle cut in as he tossed the car over his head and in the Omnidroid's direction. "I am _new_ hero! _Red Sickle_!"

The car connected to the Omnidroid with a satisfying _thunk_ and Sickle's heart swelled as the crowd that had gathered actually took a moment to clap in approval as it burst into flames against the robot's smooth casing. It was soft, half hearted really, but it was applause none the less. At long last he was getting the recognition he deserved.

"Time to teach you lesson," he chided playfully at the Omnidroid and Sickle silently hoped that his Superhero banter sounded natural. Even after years of studying Supers, witty combat exchanges had always been a weak spot for him. 

He swooped in closer to the giant robot and watched as it swung one of its arms at him, and proceeded to miss by a wide margin. Sickle grinned and continued to mime a punch at the juncture between the metal body and its limb while using sleight of hand in order to press another button at his wrist control. With a mechanical pop and a slight hiss the arm detached and the Omnidroid wobbled, just as it had been programmed to. Again the crowd cheered, but it was louder now, more sincere, and the sound was downright intoxicating.

For a moment everything felt warm, grand, wonderful. He was living his dream, living in the world that he had always wanted, and for just a second Sickle felt certain that his life had finally fallen into place.

He was so caught up in these thoughts of pure, unadulterated glee that he almost didn't notice when the Omnidroid began to attack him. 

Almost.

The movement was quick, but it was impossible to ignore the sight of a giant black, mechanical limb being raised high in the air in your general direction, so Sickle dodged, barely. Another limb came swinging and this one managed to connect with his legs as if to sweep him off of his feet and knock him off balance. It worked. His feet soon knocked together, triggering his boots to life. Sickle was caught off guard, his mind was too busy reeling over how erratically the Omnidroid was behaving, and he was unable to stop himself from slamming head first into a stone wall.

_This is all wrong,_ he thought, just as his world faded into darkness.

\--

"The fastest way there is _Evergreen_!" Élastique insisted, seething the words more than speaking them as one hand pressed firmly against the dashboard as the other gripped the side of the van.

"Evergreen?" Invincible scoffed dismissively as he swerved past another car and continued to clutch the wheel tightly in his hands as he pushed the reinforced vehicle's speed into the triple digits. "No way! They're downtown, in the _business center_! If I take Evergreen, I'll go right past them. I'd be better off taking _Berkley_!"

"Berkley? During this time of day! You will be gridlocked! Take _Evergreen_!"

Invincible groaned as his fingers curled around the leather wrapped wheel until it felt as if it would snap like a dry twig in his hand. Things had been going smoothly so far. Landing had been surprisingly simple with the aid of one of Matthew's force fields and they had been fortunate enough not to crash into a single car on their way down. Locating the Omnidroid was also simple, as Laurinaitis had given them the exact location prior to the launch. What was not simple was driving, because he and Élastique had never been able to sit in a car together for more than a minute without getting at each other's nerves. At least now was not nearly as bad as their Supering days, when Élastique had had the bad habit of _grabbing the wheel_ of the Invinc-obile while he was still driving. Still, their current bickering wasn't exactly productive and very likely to get them all killed.

"Truck!" Matthew cried out from the backseat, just as Invincible swerved out of the eighteen wheeler's way.

"I saw it!" Invincible seethed as he continued to glance at all the road signs zooming by. "Which exit is coming up?" he asked as he eased the car towards the off ramp. "Is that Berkley?"

"Do not take that one!" Élastique screamed, shrieked really, his voice so shrill that it actually caused Invincible to jerk the wheel and straighten the car.

"Dammit Francis! That was my exit!"

"I told you to get off at Evergreen, so get off _now_!"

Invincible, reluctantly, did as he was told; jerking the car so suddenly towards the fast approaching exit that the van wobbled and nearly tipped over. Invincible pushed aside the worried groan bubbling in his throat and kept telling himself that it didn't matter how he got there, just that he got there, because every second spent in this van arguing was a second that innocent people were put in grave danger. 

Once they were off the highway, it didn't take long for them to find their destination, because the signs of mindless destruction and panic were easy to pick up on. The van barreled towards the city and even with the windows rolled up Invincible could faintly smell the rubber burning as he came to a screeching halt in front of a nearby building, knocking into a light post and scraping the sidewalk while he was at it. The frame of the van rocked and creaked in protest when Invincible finally shut off the engine. 

He took a moment to twist around in his seat and glance back at the children strapped to their chairs in the back. They looked pale, shaken, but whole.

"Are you lads alright?" Invincible asked as he looked from Matthew's trembling figure to Alfred's dizzied expression.

"Ugh... maple," Matthew said weakly as he slumped over in his seat.

"Still a lot better than that plane ride," Alfred groaned as he clutched at his head.

Invincible smiled proudly at his two brave boys, because any other children would likely have been frantically weeping after such an experience. Not his two. They were a different breed through and through.

Élastique touched his arm and Invincible felt his smile fade when a deep rumbling greeted him just a moment later. He slipped from his seat and out the car, marching into the middle of the deserted street just in time to listen to a panicked scream slice through the air as the Omnidroid marched by. Invincible swore it had gotten taller and for a moment he could do nothing but stare at its smooth black body peeking out from between the gray slabs of buildings.

"Stay here with the boys," Invincible said, because he already knew that Élastique was standing beside. "I have to go."

"Not without me," Élastique said as he quickly stepped in front of him, blocking Invincible's path. There was a stubborn gleam in his masked eyes and Invincible could tell from the firm set of his jaw that he was deadly serious.

"No Francis, this is my mess and I have to clean it up."

"You seem to be forgetting who I am, Captain Invincible," Élastique snapped with a very pointed huff. "I am a seasoned Super, one who had been single handedly defeating megalomaniacs while _you_ were still an awkward teenager locked in your room listening to your punk albums."

"You don't understand. I _fought_ it before!" Invincible countered, even as a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that _this_ Omnidriod had wiped the floor with him in less than a minute during their last encounter.

"And you will fight it again, with _me_." Élastique made to grab his wrist, but Invincible just stepped aside, avoiding his touch completely.

"No," he said, because this was wrong, everything was wrong. There was smoke in the air, wreckage all around, and screams and sirens wailing in their ears. This was the world he had left behind, the world that they had been forced away from, and the world he had never wanted his boys to see. Months ago, Invincible might have felt right at home in this familiar scene, but now he just felt... "I need you and the boys to be safe."

"You are as stubborn now as you were back then," Élastique huffed as he threw his arms up dramatically to emphasize his point. "Why must you continue to be so reluctant to work as a team?"

"This isn't about 'teamwork.'"

"Then what is it? Your ego? Your own self worth?"

"No! That isn't it either." Invincible frowned, twisting around momentarily to search the skylines. His head felt dizzy, his world uneven, and Élastique's insistence on having this argument was not making things any better. "Look, you don't understand-"

"Then help me to understand!"

"I I can't-"

"Cannot, what? Cannot tell me?"

"I can't lose you again!" Invincible hadn't meant to shout the words or grab Élastique's shoulder so roughly, but his questions had sent Invincible hurdling back to the moment when he'd heard Francis's plane being shot out of the sky and suddenly his heart felt just as withered and cold as it had then. "I can't lose you. Not again."

He wasn't looking at Élastique, he simply couldn't as his eyes suddenly seemed only able to focus on the ground between them, but he could practically feel Élastique's eyes widen as they studied him a bit too intensely. Invincible flinched when he felt Élastique's gloved hand brush against his cheek, his touch warm and comforting even as feelings of complete worthlessness churned in the pit of his stomach. Yet it didn't stop his heart from jumping in his chest when Élastique's lips pressed against his in a firm, yet reassuring kiss.

"You need not worry about that," Élastique whispered to him, his breath hot against Invincible's lips. He watched as Élastique smiled at him, a strange confidence filling his gaze that actually helped to make Invincible feel a bit steadier. "You will not lose us so easily."

For one fleeting moment Invincible believed him, but those feelings of warmth and stability were difficult to maintain when Matthew's shrill scream reached their ears.

\--

"I don't think we should leave the car," Mattie noted as Alfred unbuckled himself from his seat and stepped out of the van. 

"I know," he said dismissively, because it didn't take a genius to know that a city currently being terrorized by a giant robot wasn't the safest place to be, but Alfred just needed to put his feet on some stable ground after being tossed around like a pin ball inside of the van. "I just need some fresh air."

Mattie didn't say anything, but Alfred could tell he was feeling the same way as he, shakily, stepped out the van behind him. The dads were talking just a few feet away, arguing really from the way they were frowning at each other, and really the ground didn't feel so solid with the way it was shaking from the robot's heavy pounding. The air was thick and gritty, there was noise churning in his ears, and every where he looked things were either smashed or being destroyed. Suddenly Alfred knew exactly what it felt like to be in a monster movie.

"I wonder if they shut down the school," Alfred mused as he searched the horizon for any signs of the robot. Something that huge _shouldn't_ be hard to spot, but Alfred was feeling so dizzy that it was hard to sort up from down. 

"Is there even school today? I feel like we were stuck on that island for months."

Alfred gave a weak laugh. He felt a bit like sitting, but at the same time wanted to stay on his feet. He glanced back at the dads and saw that they weren't shouting anymore -- just talking quietly and, oh, now they were kissing, gross -- and he wondered if that meant that Pops would be taking them home. 

At the moment, going home didn't sound like such a bad idea, because at least then he'd be able to get something to eat. Even as that little voice in the back of his mind tried to convince Alfred how amazing a shower would feel right about now a bigger voice was screaming about how this adventure was not over yet. There was still a robot to destroy and Alfred wanted to _at least_ stick around to see it happen if not do _something_ to help.

"Alfred! _Run_!"

Alfred didn't run, he was too shocked by Mattie's sudden scream to move, but even as he turned to look at his brother -- his face had gone several shades paler and his eyes were wide enough to pop out of his head -- he saw the massive shadow stretch out to cover everything in sight. He raised his eyes and saw only smooth black metal above him as the robot loomed over them. His already wobbling knees gave out at the sheer size of it, like a floating stadium ready to crush him, and Alfred soon found that he could only duck and cover in anticipation for the blow.

It never came.

He blinked, not realizing that his eyes had been closed, and looked around to see that Mattie had managed to create one of his energy fields around them and was now the only thing standing between them being crushed like ants.

"Maple... leaf..." Mattie half squeaked, half groaned, his arms stretched high above his head and his eyes screwed shut in concentration. Alfred could tell that it was taking everything in his brother not to panic and keep the protective bubble from popping around them.

The robot must have known that too, because it didn't ease up. It raised its giant bowling ball shaped body into the sky, before lowering it down on them again and again. Alfred cringed with each blow even as the shield overhead maintained itself. By the fifth blow the robot grew frustrated, it must have, because it raised itself higher and brought its body down faster than ever before. It was too much for Mattie to handle and Alfred felt his heart still in his chest when he saw his brother's eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapsed in a heap next to him.

"Mattie?" Alfred gasped as he crawled over to his brother's limp body.

The sound of metal limbs creaking reached his ears and Alfred could only think to wrap himself around Mattie as the robot's massive shadow engulfed them once more.

Again the blow didn't come and this time when Alfred opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Dad crouched on the ground next to him, using his arms and upper back to hold the robot in place and from the way his face was turning red, Alfred could see that it was no easy feat.

"Élastique! Grab them!" Dad managed to grunt as his whole body continued to tremble from the effort he was exerting.

Someone grabbed him by his collar and Alfred soon found himself, and Mattie, being pulled out of the crater and held in Pops' arms. Alfred had to marvel at Pops' ability to run at a dead sprint while carrying the two of them in his arms, especially since he didn't even seem winded, but he supposed that had everything to do with the adrenaline that was no doubt pumping its way through his veins.

"I'm okay Papa," Mattie groaned as he slowly slipped back into consciousness. "Really."

Pops didn't listen and Alfred could tell by the determined look on his face that his only concern at the moment was to get them as far away from the robot as possible. Alfred twisted around in Pops' arms and watched as Dad managed to push the robot off of him, only to have to duck and roll away from the metal arms that were desperately trying to skewer him. Pops ducted behind a corner nearly a block away from where Dad was busy fighting with the robot. He dropped Alfred and Mattie on the ground -- most likely a bit harder than he had intended, but there were too many things going on for Pops to focus on being gentle -- before quickly sprinting back towards Dad.

"Stay put!" Pops shouted back at the, as he disappeared down the street.

"Mattie?" Alfred began as he watched Pops dash away.

"Yeah Alfie?"

"We have the coolest parents _ever_."

\--

This Omnidroid was just as strong as the last time he had faced it. That thought _should_ have been troubling, but it wasn't, because unlike the last time Invincible was ready for it and he was fighting to do more than save his own sorry hide.

_I have to lead it away from the kids,_ he thought as he sprinted down the street, narrowly escaping the Omnidroid's beams as it continued to blast away at the concrete with the canon mounted near its scope. A car came whizzing in front of him, colliding into the street with a heavy thud and completely cutting off Invincible's path.

"Damn you!" Invincible seethed as he narrowly dodged another blast. "Fighting dirty?"

It was then that his eyes caught sight of something, a flash of gold streaking through the sky. The Omnidroid must have spotted it as well, because it soon turned its camera to face the blazing gleam in the air. The golden streak began spinning about the robot's head, looping around in circles before sending a full blast of fire straight to its camera. Invincible watched as the giant machine staggered backwards before swatting at the flames as if it were a fly buzzing around its head. Invincible cringed as he watched the fire disburse and revealed a man shaped figure in red and gold tights appear in its place. The man was soon sent crashing towards the ground and hit the street with cringe inducing thud.

_Wonderful,_ Invincible mentally groaned as he sprinted towards El Infierno. _Just what I need. Someone else to get in the way._

"Antonio!" he heard Élastique cry as he ran towards his fallen friend's side. "Anto... er, El Infierno," Élastique stammered as he crouched down beside the other Super. "Are you alright?"

"Ouch," Infierno groaned as he rubbed the side of his head. A wry smile crept onto his features as he blinked up at Élastique's concerned face. "What the heck is that thing made of?"

"Something stronger than your thick skull," Invincible chided.

Infierno looked ready to respond, but the Omnidroid interrupted them by aiming its canon between the three and blasted at the ground, kicking up chunks of concrete and forcing the group to scatter. Invincible rolled away as Élastique wrapped his arms around Infierno's dazed form and carried him away. 

Invincible must have been only midstride when the Omnidroid reached out and plucked him off of the ground. Invincible groaned, struggling in the machine's grasp for only an instant before being tossed aside like a rag doll into an office building. He heard more than felt the glass shattering as he crashed through several desks and chairs before being slammed against a filing cabinet. With a heavy grunt, Invincible got to his feet, briefly brushing bits of rubble and glass off of him before running back towards the now demolished window. Down below he could see that the Omnidroid was currently chasing after Élastique, who was twisting and looping his body about in order to quicken his pace, as Infierno continued shooting fire at the machine's limbs in hopes of doing some damage. 

Somehow even amidst all that chaos and destruction, Invincible was able to spot it: a small white object that, upon first glance, appeared to be nothing more than rubble, but it wasn't. He recognized the object right away as one of Red Sickle's arm bands and for a fleeting moment Invincible wondered where Sickle had gotten to, before his mind switched to more important matters. He jumped down from the destroyed office building to the wreckage cluttered streets below in order to retrieve the wrist band. It was hard and sturdy and despite its smooth surface, Invincible was able to easily identify the buttons on its face. 

"Red Sickle's remote!" he cried out and instantly found that he had made a terrible mistake. The Omnidroid, which had moments ago been focused on attempting to blast Infierno out of the sky, swirled around to face him. The ground exploded beneath his feet as the robot opened fire.

\--

Alfred and Mattie saw the whole thing. They had watched as Dad leapt out of the building and picked up the weird piece of metal before shouting something towards Pops and Uncle Toni. Whatever he had said the robot hadn't approved of, because it instantly started to fire on him, blasting at the ground below him before reaching out and picking Dad up in its claws. It looked ready to squeeze him like a pimple waiting to be popped, but Dad pressed a button or something on the thing he picked up and suddenly he was dropped to the ground.

"It's a remote," Mattie concluded as he turned to face Alfred. "It's a remote that controls the robot."

"We have to get it!" Alfred said instantly, his feet eager to carry him towards the action. He may have been caught off guard before, but he was ready now.

"Papa told us to stay here," Mattie reminded him.

"Yeah, but they're getting their butts kicked," Alfred pointed out. "Look, we _gotta_ help. Do you want them to end up like Uncle Gil?"

It was a low blow -- one that Alfred instantly regretted -- but it was enough to get his point across. Mattie gave a reluctant sigh as he nodded in consent. "Go for it Alfie."

Alfred didn't need to be told twice. He was zipping away towards the fight before the words could even fully leave Mattie's lips. He ran past the giant robot, its enormous camera somehow missing him completely as he came to a halt a few feet away. "Dad!" Alfred cried out, waving his arms and jumping up and down in order to catch his attention. "I'm open! Throw it here!"

For a fleeting moment, Alfred saw a look of genuine surprise on Dad's face, but it faded away quickly as he wound up to pitch the remote in his direction. He tossed the white controller clear over the robot's head and kept on soaring clear into the air. Alfred took off like a shot in order to catch it. His legs pounding and his eyes trained on the controller whizzing through the sky as Alfred mentally ordered himself not to pay attention to the steady pounding in the ground that told him the robot was right on his heels.

He was able to catch the remote just as it fell out of the sky, a good few blocks away from where Dad had originally tossed it, and for a moment he felt safe. That was, until the ground exploded in front of him and he remembered that the robot had a gun mounted to its head. Alfred took off in a flash, serpentining in the hopes that an erratically moving target would make it harder for the robot to aim, but the machine only responded by hurling cars in his path.

Alfred's heart was slamming against his chest as he came to a sudden halt between a brick wall and two cars that had been slammed into the ground, caging him in. He thought for certain that it was all over, especially when a bright light engulfed his vision and his side was overcome by an incredible heat, but when he blinked his eyes a few times he soon found that he was flying clear above the robot's head.

"Don't worry niño," he heard Uncle Toni say. He turned around to see that he was currently being held in Uncle Toni's arms, his lower half completely engulfed in flames while his upper body remained normal. "I've got you."

Alfred smiled and held on tight, both to Uncle Toni and the remote, as they went whirling through the air. The robot seemed determined not to let them escape as it angrily fired blast after blast from its laser beams at them, swatting with its mechanical arms when it could. Luckily for Alfred, Uncle Toni was good at this flying stuff and was able to dodge every blow. Luckier still was how Pops was able to take out the robot's gun when he lifted a manhole cover off of the street and used his arm to sling-shot the disk at the robot's head. 

Their luck ran out there, because the robot had managed to fire off one last shot which connected with Uncle Toni's back. Uncle Toni hissed in pain, jerking backwards as his arms reflectively released Alfred from his protective grasp, allowing the boy to fall several feet below.

\-- 

Élastique had seen the whole thing. He had watched as Alfred was chased down by the Omnidroid, ducking and dodging and narrowly escaping the machine's frightfully precise attacks, and as much as his heart was churning with fear, he had to admit that there was a great deal of pride welling up inside of him as well. He had never seen Alfred run so quickly or move so nimbly and, all things considered, the boy had handled himself quite well in his first real battle.

_First and last,_ Élastique thought resolutely and no sooner had the thought entered his mind did his masked eyes catch the sight of Alfred and Infierno being shot out of the sky by the Omnidroid's blasters. Again his heart started hammering in his chest as he watched Alfred fall. Of course, Élastique was able to keep a level head as he stretched his body into a long flat blanket in order to catch the two of them before they could hit the ground.

"Did I not tell you and your brother to stay put?" Élastique chided once Alfred and Infierno were safely on the ground (and his own body was returned to its normal shape).

"Yeah, but..." Alfred began, a sheepish look already settling on to his features. The boy interrupted himself, however, when he seemed to notice something amiss. "Wait, where's the remote?"

"Remote?" Élastique echoed as he vaguely recalled the odd white cuff that Alfred had been clutching just before he had fallen from the sky. Invincible had been shouting about it as well, just before he had hurled it to Alfred, and clearly the strange device held some sort of importance. His eyes quickly swept the rubble and debris filled road, and only saw that the Omnidroid was less than a block away and approaching.

A massive groan longed to escape him, but Élastique swallowed the sound when his tired eyes caught the sight of the white cuff, which was now floating in mid air. The Omnidroid must have spotted it as well as it used its arms to swat at the controller, but its coordination had already taken a great deal of damage and the robot only ended up sinking its claws into the street. It was then that a battered sedan went soaring through the air and straight towards the robot's body. ( _Courtesy of Captain Invincible_ , Élastique thought with a smile.) The machine wobbled and stumbled backwards just as Mathieu reappeared.

"Papa, I got the remote!" Mathieu shouted as he sprinted towards Élastique's side.

"A remote?" Infierno echoed as he blinked down at the device that Alfred proceeded to snatch out of Mathieu's grasp. "A remote for what?"

Alfred pressed a few buttons, a determined frown decorating his masked features, and in an instant the Omnidroid was propelled off of the ground and jettisoned backwards.

"The robot?" Infierno gasped, but the group was by now solely focused on the controller in Alfred's hands.

"You're pressing the wrong buttons!" Mathieu cried as he yanked the remote from his brother and began pressing a few buttons himself.

"No, those are the same buttons. Try _this_ one."

"No, that one's no good. Try that one."

"No, no, _this one_!"

"Not that one! You already tried it!"

"Oh for the love of... there are _three buttons_!" Invincible all but shouted as he rejoined the group before snatching the remote for himself. "Look, the Omnidroid's body is too strong. The only thing that can penetrate it is itself. We have to find some way to get it to puncture its own shell."

"Wonderful," Élastique said as he claimed the controller as his own. "You and Infierno go buy some time while I try to figure this out."

Invincible huffed and sputtered indignantly, but the steady pounding of heavy metal claws against the street was more than enough to pull him out of his little temper tantrum. "Fine. _Fine_!" he groaned as he turned to glare wearily at Infierno. "You go high, I'll go low."

Infierno gave a short nod as he launched himself into the air and Invincible went sprinting towards the Omnidroid and suddenly Élastique was left alone to figure out just how to work the controls. The boys chattered and argued around him, but Élastique was sure to ignore their petulant cries as he focused solely on his task.

He punched a button and found that it didn't do much aside from cause the claw to spin like a propeller, another button recreated the rocket boost that launched the Omnidroid earlier, and the third button caused a lower video scope to appear from the base of the robot's body. After a minute of playing with the remote Élastique discovered two things: first that while there were only three buttons, as Invincible had so gruffly pointed out, when pressed in a certain order they preformed separate tasks, such as causing claws to be detached from the Omnidroid's limb. The second was that, when being tossed in the air while clutched in a dismembered claw, Invincible made a very strange noise similar to a cat whose whiskers had been burned.

"Dammit Élastique, stop fooling around!" Invincible howled from somewhere behind him. "We have to hurry up and destroy this damn thing!"

"Amigo! Hurry," Infierno whined as he continued to shoot fire at the increasingly irritated Omnidroid. "I don't think I can keep this up forever!"

It was then that Élastique realized exactly what he needed to do. It was just as Invincible had said, they had to get the Omnidroid to puncture itself, and the best way to do so would be to launch its own dismembered claw at itself. Of course, the problem was that Élastique could not recall how to perform that precise task.

"Invincible!" Élastique cried as he glanced over his shoulder in order to get a better look at the other Super. "Grab the claw!" Invincible nodded as he ran over to the fallen limb and lifted it as best as he could. "Okay boys," Élastique began as he turned back to face the Omnidroid. It was still focused on swatting Infierno out of the sky, but Élastique could tell from is friend's quickly diminishing flames that it wouldn't be long before it moved on to another target. "Tell me what happens when I press this button."

The children craned their necks around as Élastique pressed the top two buttons. "It's spinning!" Alfred told him and Élastique groaned.

"That is not right," he grumbled, then pressed the bottom key twice. "This one?"

"Nothing," Mathieu said.

"Alright, it is this one." He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Boys, when I say run, you run."

"No way Pops!" Alfred cried stubbornly just as the Omnidroid's arm made contact with Infierno's torso. 

"We're not leaving," Mathieu put in. 

It was too late to argue.

"Francis! Hurry!" Invincible cried.

"Fine!" he groaned, before pressing the middle switch. "Duck!"

This time the children did just as he said, crouching down low and covering themselves with their arms just as the Omnidroid's detached claw went flying over their heads. The limb ran clean through the robot's body with ease, leaving only a massive whole in its wake. They watched in stunned awe as for one full second the robot was perfectly still, before it tipped over, collapsed on its side and burst into brilliant flames.

He must have been staring at the ruined body for some time, because he did not realize that Invincible was next to him until his hand pressed down on his shoulder. Élastique looked to the other Super and smiled just as the few citizens that had not fled the city gathered around the group and began to applaud in earnest. 

Élastique let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relieved that, at long last, it was finally all over.


	12. The Past vs The Future

"What a mess you people make," Roderich huffed, sporting his usual perturbed demeanor as he sat with his arms and legs tightly crossed and his back rail straight. He was currently hard at work glaring the two seasoned Supers down and it was strange that a man without a single super powered bone in his body could make beings such as them feel like mere children. "Do you have any idea how much damage you caused? The paper work alone will cost us a fortune!"

"Well it's not as if it was our fault," Invincible countered. He turned to Élastique for support, but found that he was currently busy using the limousine's phone to check the messages on his voicemail box. Clearly Invincible would have to square off with Roderich alone. "Red Sickle's the loon who released the robot on the city. We were just doing our duty by stopping the thing!"

"Yes well," Roderich began, but stopped himself mid-sentence. His demeanor softened momentarily as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Invincible could tell that they were about to witness a truly rare sight. "You did well. But do not think that this means you can come out of retirement. You'll have to let the government figure that one out. Until then just be sure to keep a low profile. And stay out of trouble!"

Invincible sighed as he gave a weary nod. He hadn't been hoping for things to go back to the way they were fifteen years ago, because just the mere act of being thanked for his deed was more than enough for him. What's more the entire family had been through so much these past few days that simply spending some time at home being "normal" sounded just fine to him. He smiled as he turned to Alfred who was starring eagerly out the limousine's tinted windows before switching his attention to playing with the little buttons along the side paneling, causing the lights within the cabin the flicker on and off. Élastique, still fixated with listening to his messages, took a moment to stretch out his arm and slap Alfred's hands away, before returning to his business. 

Matthew was sitting between Invincible and Élastique and seemed ready to nod off. Invincible smiled down at the boy as he wrapped an arm around him and pulled Matthew closer to his side. He reasoned that he could allow Alfred and Matthew to miss a day or two of school just to rest and unwind. He was certain that Élastique would agree.

"Are you going throw Red Sickle in jail?" Alfred asked when it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to play around anymore.

Roderich looked at the boy, shifted, and cleared his throat. Roderich wasn't accustomed to dealing with children and Invincible had to wonder if the mere act of sitting next to two strained him. "We will," he assured Alfred. "Now that we are aware of what his little company has been doing all these years and where they are operating from, the government will be sure to keep a close eye on him."

_When you find him,_ Invincible put in silently. He didn't want to frighten the boys, but he had noticed that -- once the authorities had gathered at the crime scene -- there had been absolutely no sight of Red Sickle and Invincible couldn't help thinking that the mad man had managed to escape capture. The very thought was enough to cause Invincible to tighten his grip on Matthew. They would have to be much more vigilant until Sickle was caught.

"Arthur," Élastique began, his words effectively pulling Invincible out of his dark musings. "Listen to these messages. They are so strange."

Invincible frowned as Élastique shifted closer and positioned the car's phone between the two of them. He heard Matthew give a groan of discomfort, but the sound was drowned out by the worried tone of a young girl's voice coming from the earpiece. " _Mr. Bonnefoy_ ," the girl began, " _I don't want to alarm you, but something strange is going on with your house. The baby and I are just fine, but... well, call me back okay?_ " The message ended with a loud beep and another one soon started. " _The baby and I are still okay, but a lot of weird stuff is happening. When are you coming back?_ " Another beep and a new message began, only this time there was a shrill screeching in the background as the girl's slightly worried tone shifted into full on panic. " _Things are_ not _okay Mr. Bonnefoy! Your kid didn't pay me enough for this! When are you coming home?_ " Another beep as the message shifted and by now the girl was out right screaming at them. " _I'm going to call the cops if you don't come home right now!_ "

That message alone was enough to cause a wave of panic to seize Invincible's heart and he could tell by the way Élastique had visibly paled that he was thinking along the same lines. The limo had turned on to their street just as a new message began to play and the two Supers were stunned when they found that the girl's voice had settled into a much calmer level. " _Hello Mr. Bonnefoy, this is Emma again. Sorry about all those messages earlier. I guess I got a little freaked out, because, well your baby has... special needs._ "

"Special needs?" Invincible echoed. He could say many things about Angelique, but the girl was as normal as they came. What's more, he couldn't wrap his mind around anything that the infant could have done that would cause such a reaction in this poor teenager. Invincible pushed those thoughts aside when he heard the girl, Emma, continue to speak.

" _Luckily your friend showed up when he did..._ "

"Our friend?" he repeated, jerking away from the phone in order to get a good look at Élastique's face.

"Antonio never said anything about seeing Angelique," Élastique reminded him as fear quickly settled onto his own face.

It was true, Infierno hadn't said anything about the baby, and had only off handedly joked about flying home before Lovino killed him before they had left the city. As scatter brained as Infierno could be, Invincible doubted he be careless enough to leave an infant alone or not bother to mention her well being to her parents.

The limousine had barely stopped in front of their drive way when Élastique jumped out of the door, scrambling to get inside the house. Invincible and the children were hot on his heels. Élastique nearly yanked the front door off of its hinges as he pushed his way inside. They were instantly greeted by the sound of Pierre's panicked chirping when they stepped inside the darkened foyer. The family didn't get to go much further as a beam of red energy soon enveloped their bodies, leaving all four of them completely paralyzed.

"So good of you to join us," Red Sickle greeted, his usual cold smile gracing his lips as he stared coolly at them. "We have been waiting."

To say that Sickle looked horrible was to put things mildly. His usually pristine suit was caked with sooth and his red cape was nearly torn to shreds. There was dried blood decorating the side of his face and drenching his hair and his mask was barely hanging on to him. That poor Emma girl must have been in a bad state if she had willingly allowed this man into their home.

Angelique was sleeping in the crook of his arm, looking surprisingly peaceful curled up next to a mad man and Invincible's arms were burning with the need to grab her and take her away before breaking every bone in Sickle's slimy body.

"Do not worry about baby," Sickle said in a voice that would have been reassuring if it were coming from anyone else. "I will take good care of her. After all, you broke my friend, so I am merely acquiring new one. I will nurture and protect and help her fulfill potential and maybe someday we will come back and pay family a visit. Until then..." With a mere flick of his wrist, Sickle sent all four of them flying across the room, crashing into a nearby book shelf. 

The wood splintered and cracked as piles of books came raining down on top of them. Invincible grunted as he helped Matthew and Alfred up, only for the sound of a large explosion to greet his ears. Dust bloomed before his eyes and when the smoke cleared he found that Sickle had blasted a massive whole in their roof and had used his rocket books to launch himself skyward.

"He took my baby!" Élastique screamed as he untangled himself from the debris and ran outside.

Élastique was already on the front lawn by the time Invincible and the boys had managed to get through the front door. His panic stricken eyes were fixed on the sky and when Invincible looked up, he saw why.  Sickle was already several feet above them and fast approaching a massive jet hovering miles overhead. Invincible groaned, because even with his superior vision he could hardly make out Angelique's form from this distance.

"What is wrong with you people!" Roderich chided as he ran out of the limousine and joined them on the front lawn. "Is _this_ what you call keeping a low profile?"

"That bastard is kidnapping our daughter!" Invincible countered as he pointed towards the two figures disappearing into the sky. That was more than enough to silence Roderich, whose face went positively ashen as he joined the family in staring helplessly at the scene above them.

"They stopped," Matthew pointed out.

He was right. Sickle and Angelique were hovering just near the plane's wing, but they didn't appear to be moving into it. They weren't simply floating there either. Invincible caught the very distinct sight of movement, but he couldn't quite tell what was causing it.

"Something's happening up there," Alfred noted, but his words were drowned out by Élastique's frantic shrieks.

"We have to do something!" Élastique nearly howled as he began to shake Invincible's shoulders. "We have to stop him! He's getting away! Do something! _Throw_ something!"

"I can't!" Invincible snapped as he tried and failed to steady Élastique. His grasp was vice like and for a moment Invincible forgot which one of them had been gifted with super strength. "I can't just throw something into the air. I might hit Angelique!"

"Well then..." Élastique's voice trailed off as his eyes once again drifted skyward where he saw a flicker of light erupt from Sickle's hands. "Throw me."

Invincible blinked as he turned to stare at his husband, certain that he hadn't heard him correctly. "What?"

"Dammit Arthur, do not argue with me!" Élastique snapped as he gave Invincible's arm one last shake. " _Throw me_!"

He knew he didn't have a choice and with a muttered curse Invincible grabbed Élastique by his waist and hurled him into the air as if he were nothing more than a lawn dart.

\--

The baby was quite cute. Even its frightened cries were cute and as Red Sickle soared through the air with the infant cradled in his arms he felt certain that he had made the right choice. She may not have been Captain Invincible's blood daughter, but Sickle felt certain that he had saved her from a lifetime of bitterness and resentment. After all, she was like him, a normal human living in a world of Supers. Her so called family would say that they love her, but in truth they would only look down on the child as they flaunted their "gifts" and made the girl feel inadequate.

Sickle would not let that happen. He was going to be the perfect guardian in order to help guide the baby to reach her full potential and she would appreciate him for it and perhaps even love him. He smiled at that thought. Yes, she would love him. She would not abandon him like Invincible or betray him like Toris. She would be a true friend.

The baby continued to sob and shriek as she twisted in his arms and gazed down at the world spreading out below them. His grip on her stayed strong, even as she wiggled about and he learned in that moment that babies were fidgety creatures. "Do not worry," Sickle soothed as he gave the infant's back a gentle pat. They were only a few feet away from his jet now and Sickle felt certain he could take a moment to comfort his new charge. "Old family is gone now. You will no longer be seeing them."

A sharp, searing pain spread through his hand and up his arm once those words left his lips and for a moment he wondered if his equipment had malfunctioned. Yet when he looked down he found that the source of his pain was actually... the baby? That didn't make sense, because Sickle had been certain that the baby only had a few tiny teeth in her mouth full of gums and a bite from her should not cause nearly this much pain. 

He hissed as the pain flared up once again as the child's jaw clenched down tighter on his arm and a trail of blood began to drip down his gloved hand. Sickle let out a horrified cry as he pried the baby off of him only to find several rows of razor sharp teeth had sprouted from the infant's pink gums. His mind was positively reeling as the teeth disappeared and rows of spikes soon emerged across the girl's skin.

"I... how...?" he sputtered as he struggled to maintain a proper hold on the child. This wasn't right. He had read over Invincible's file carefully before going to his home and his papers had said quite clearly that the youngest child was an adopted normal girl. This sort of thing should not be possible.

Sickle did not have time to process this new situation as the baby continued to scream and cry and attempt to puncture his costumed arms with her spikes. He felt positively horrified, yet things turned from bad to worse when the spikes disappeared and a pulse of electricity emerged from the infant's body.

He yelped and he could practically feel the circuits in his body suit spark and jerk as his equipment began to malfunction. His boots flared up, propelling him backwards and slamming Sickle into the base of his plane. Sparks continued to fly and Sickle didn't even realize that he had dropped the child until he opened his eyes and realized that both of his hands were now gripping only the wing of the plane.

\--

"Whoa Dad, you really threw him!" Alfred gasped as he squinted up at the sky, struggling to keep his eyes on Élastique's rapidly disappearing figure.

Invincible felt as if his insides were on fire as he was stuck standing back helplessly on the ground as he watched the events transpiring above them. He silently hoped that he hadn't thrown Élastique too hard, because he hadn't exactly had an opportunity to aim properly before taking action. It would be absolutely horrible for him to zoom right past the plane.

He could just barely see it, but his eyes had been able to spot Angelique slipping from Sickle's grasp and his heart felt as if it were about to explode.

"What is happening?" Roderich asked as he desperately peered up above, rocking back and forth on the ball of his heels in order to get a better view. "I cannot see anything!"

"He dropped the baby!" Matthew told him as he struggled along with the others to get a better view. "But Papa's not close enough to catch her yet."

"I can't see Red Sickle," Alfred said. "Do you think he got in the plane? Did he drop her on purpose?"

_Dammit Francis_ , Invincible silently groaned. _Hurry up._ Things were moving far too slowly for his taste and he could see that Francis was feeling much the same way as he proceeded to stretch his body out in order to reach the infant that much faster. A great weight seemed to lift off of him when Élastique's hands finally wrapped themselves around Angelique's tiny body.

"He caught her!" Alfred cheered and Matthew looked ready to collapse in relief.

Invincible wanted to rejoice along with them, but he simply couldn't. Looking past the gradually descending figure of Élastique and Angelique, he could only see Sickle's massive jet looming above them like a dark cloud. That's how it would be forever: Sickle's presence always following them around, surrounding them, and locking them in a state of perpetual fear. 

In that moment, Invincible knew that he absolutely could not allow that to happen. He wouldn't let his children live in a world where they had to constantly look over their shoulders and jump at shadows. Invincible scowled as he looked around the lawn, searching for something that could help him. It was then that his eyes landed on the Aston Martin parked in the driveway and everything seemed to click into place. 

He sprinted across the lawn and grabbed the sport car, awkwardly, by its bumper. Invincible gave a large grunt as he positioned it in his arms and measured things out carefully. He knew that he only had one chance to do this and it had to be absolutely perfect. 

"Boys, duck!" Invincible ordered.

Roderich and the children turned towards him, all three of them growing wide eyed and pale before crouching down to the ground as prepared himself for a running start. Invincible sprinted a few steps before pitching the car high into the air. He watched as the car went zooming past Élastique and the baby (and Invincible allowed himself a small bit of relief for that) before crashing into the nose of the jet several feet above.

The explosion was loud enough to be heard from the ground and Invincible felt his lips curl into a triumphant smile as the Bentley tore into plane like a rock through paper. His moment of victory was short lived, however, when Invincible realized that the explosions blooming overhead would only serve to cause the flaming debris to rain down on them.

"You damn fool!" Roderich barked as he spun on his heels in order to properly chew Invincible out. "What do you propose we do now?"

"Uh, well..." Invincible began hesitantly, but his words soon came to an end when he found himself at a loss.

Everything seemed to move that much faster as Invincible and the others stood there helplessly. Élastique landed on the ground, just a few inches away from Invincible, just as the jet's severed nose came crashing down around them. The sound of fire blooming as metal and wires twisted and collapsed around them churned through Invincible's ears and for one horrifying moment Invincible felt certain that it was all over.

Yet when the smoke cleared and the ringing in his ears began to fade, Invincible realized that everything was fine. They were crouched down low, Roderich was curled into a tight ball at his feet, Élastique's arms wrapped around Invincible and the children, Alfred clung desperately to Invincible's chest, and Angelique stayed sandwiched between her parents. It was only when Invincible looked up that he saw that Matthew was standing above them, arms out stretched and face twisted in concentration as he worked to maintain the force field surrounding them.

"There's a good lad," Invincible chuckled as his insides began to swell with pride.

"He gets his quick reflexes from me," Élastique boasted as he stretched himself taller in order to place a quick kiss to Matthew's cheek.

"Uh, what about the house?" Alfred ventured as he nodded towards the charred remains of what had once been their modest sized, contemporary ranch home. "Does this mean we're gonna have to move?"

Invincible felt his stomach rise and fall at the sight of a lifetime worth of memories having literally gone up in a blaze in the blink of an eye. It was a weighty loss, one that he could not dwell on properly given the way Roderich was currently glowering daggers at his side. A small, hesitant chuckle escaped him as he turned towards the clearly displeased man and mentally prepared himself for another long lecture on carelessness. "Well, Roderich old man, what do you say to one last relocation? For old time's sake?"

 

**Epilogue: Fall 2013**

The house still smelled like paint. The fumes hung heavy in the air several months after the last coat had been neatly brushed on. Arthur ran his hands along the glossy surface of the walls -- smooth save for a lump here and there -- and confirmed what he already knew: it was dry. Francis had reasoned that it was only because of Arthur's keen senses that he was able to detect anything. He supposed he was right. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he gave the sturdy wall a quick pat before shifting his gaze towards the window facing their backyard. 

It was much bigger than the last one had been, with large looming trees, a quaint little tool shed, and plenty of space for a proper garden. ("Big enough for a dog?" Alfred had noted hopefully and Arthur responded with a short laugh and a smirked "Nice try.") Indeed everything was larger now, from the family room to the basement there was more elbow space for all. The boys were most pleased when they discovered that they would finally be able to each have a room of their own and Francis went nearly weak at the knees when brand new, state of the art appliances were installed in their spacious new kitchen. He supposed those little features more than made up for all the things they had to sacrifice.

After everything that had happened two years ago the entire family had come to the conclusion that they simply could not stay in their old neighborhood. Punching a man through a wall was one thing, having your house blown to bits after an ominous black jet crashed into it was an entirely different issue. (Not to mention the difficulty of having to explain why there were four costumed men and children standing amongst the wreckage and holding a baby.) Using the remainder of the money Arthur had received from Red Sickle (money that they had only been allowed to keep after Roderich had conveniently neglected to report it to his supervisors) they had purchased the nice little house in a pleasant neighborhood, along with a brand new minivan, in the next over county.

Of course, uprooting and starting fresh was never easy and the family found themselves having to make adjustments. The boys had to change schools and say goodbye to all of their friends while Francis now had  to drive a good hour and a half just to visit Antonio if the man didn't feel up to flying over himself. Worst of all was the fact that Francis's photography business, which had existed almost entirely on word of mouth, now had to start from scratch, a fact that Francis responded to by reluctantly taking a job at a local photo studio. At first, Francis was openly resentful at having to buckle down and take on more structured work, but after the first few months he found himself enjoying capturing the joyous smiles of young couples and soothing the fussy cries of infants and when he did finally restart his business Francis found that he had built a much studier and consistent client basis.

Somewhere in the kitchen, the main phone began to ring and Arthur was quick to grab his mug of tea and tip toe away. The biggest drawback that this house came with -- for _him_ at least -- was that they now lived much closer to Ludwig and Feliciano, which meant a drastic increase to the number of phone calls and dinner invitations they had received in the past. Francis in particular found himself being called over more often ever since little Bertie's arrival at the compound last spring.

Arthur had barely taken a full step out of the kitchen before shuffling to a stop to prevent himself from slamming into Alfred. "Hey Dad, I need you to sign something for me," Alfred said and Arthur was a bit embarrassed to say that he had to stop himself from jumping at the sound of his voice.

It was almost frightening how fast the boys were growing. It seemed as if just last year the twins had barely come up to his elbow, now Alfred was tall enough for Arthur to look him in the eye without tilting his head and his voice was starting to sound a bit more like that of an adult's.

"Another permission forum?" Arthur frowned as he grabbed the paper Alfred had been holding out for him. 

"Something like that," Alfred shrugged as he rocked back and forth on the ball of his heels. "Coach just said he needed a signature on this so I can go to the big game next week."

"Another game already?" he groaned as he once again lamented allowing Alfred to sign up for football. 

Then again, Alfred was keeping his promise not to use his powers on the field -- a fact that was likely becoming more difficult as Arthur suspect that Alfred might be developing another ability as he ventured  further into puberty -- and his mood certainly had improved ever since. What's more Alfred's grades were improving now that he had something to work towards and the other kids on the team were a nice enough bunch.  Arthur supposed he just didn't like how much football ate into Alfred's free time with all the practices and games he had to attend. Arthur had found himself missing his son so dearly that he actually began to research football trivia just to have something to discuss with him when Alfred was home.

Matthew wasn't much better since he had taken to playing hockey. His world seemed to revolve around it now with ice hockey in the late fall and winter and street hockey during the spring and summer. Yet once again Arthur couldn't complain because Matthew had made so many new friends since he started playing and no longer had any issues with maintaining his state visible.

He sighed, giving the paper a quick glance -- apparently the next game would require a charter bus and parent volunteers -- before handing it back to Alfred. "Put it on my desk, I'll sign it after dinner."

"Okay, cool," Alfred said with another shrug. He took a step away before pausing and turning back to Arthur. "Wait, you're not cooking dinner tonight, are you?"

"No smarty pants!" Arthur huffed, giving his son's shoulder a playful jab. "Your father should be home soon enough."

Alfred laughed as he folded the permission form into a little square and trotted off to the basement office. The boy had just barely disappeared downstairs when the front door began to creek open. Angelique hopped in, mud covered and drenched from head to toe, and Arthur actually found himself start to panic when it looked as if the girl was about to go bounding off to track dirt onto the cream colored carpet without so much as wiping her feet.

"Angelique!" Arthur began, but he was cut off by the sight of an arm stretching from just outside the door and straight towards the toddler. The arm wrapped itself loosely, but firmly around the toddler who suddenly found herself unable to do more than pout. 

Francis stepped inside then, a phone clutched firmly into his free hand while an umbrella was tucked firmly under his elongated arm. Like Angelique, Francis was also soaked. The heavy black raincoat and matching umbrella he was sporting were still dripping wet and his hair looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower. Yet Francis was used to this by now and seemed only a bit weary as he trudged inside. "Yes Feliciano, that's wonderful," Francis was saying distantly as he took a moment to shake some excess water off of his umbrella before finally stepping fully inside. "Ah, yes. I will be sure to tell everyone. Yes. Yes, good bye."

A sour expression slipped onto Francis's face as he ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He was quick to smooth the look away before he turned his gaze down to Angelique whom he finally released from his grasp. "What is the first thing we do when we get inside?" he asked her chidingly.

Angelique blinked her wide brown eyes as her soft features turned thoughtful. She gazed down at her feet and smiled as the answer came to her. "Shoes!" she said at last before plopping down on the soggy welcome mat and beginning to remove one shoe at a time. Arthur smiled and used the opportunity to grab a few towels from the hall closet. He returned to the entry way just as Angelique had begun to push herself off of the ground and as soon as she was standing upright, Arthur was sure to greet her with a fluffy towel. 

"How was today's 'swimming lesson'?" Arthur asked as he used one hand to offer Francis his own towel before going back to drying Angelique.

"Terrible," he said with an exaggerated sigh as he peeled off his coat before dabbing at his damp hair. "I nearly drowned."

Arthur chuckled. 

After Red Sickle's attack triggered Angelique's powers, Francis and Arthur, hesitantly, asked Roderich if he could look into Angelique's history because clearly the adoption agency had not obtained all the facts. What Roderich had found wasn't a great surprise. Her biological father had been a Super, a fact that he had not revealed to her mother until Angelique had been conceived. Just as the adoption agency had said, her mother was very young and confused, what they hadn't known was that the girl had felt certain one way or another she would lose her baby and in her panic she had given Angelique up for adoption in the hopes that she would have a better chance at a normal life hidden in plain sight with normal parents. Clearly fate had a strange sense of humor.

Since then, their uncomplicated powerless baby had turned into a bundle of surprises, displaying the ability to turn her body into a liquid state as well as create spikes from her smooth skin, razor sharp teeth from her gums, and bursts of electricity when startled, frightened, or cranky. For the better part of a year Francis and Arthur found themselves reluctant to leave the infant's side for more than a few minutes for fear of some new power rearing its head, a fact that made leaving the house difficult as they could no longer risk taking Angelique out in public for fear of blowing their cover. Yet when the girl reached two, the other abilities seemed to fade away and she was left only with her water based powers, which was fine enough, but a baby with one ability was still quite a handful.

"It is just like the twins all over again," Francis would often lament.

"Yes, but at least there's only one this time," Arthur would counter.

That was when the swimming lessons had started, because they simply could not stand to keep Angelique cooped up in the house any longer and knew from experience that the best way to deal with a Super toddler was to educate them quickly and even the fact that Angelique was just barely out of diapers was not enough to stop Francis from taking her out once a week to try to teach her to control her water powers. Some days were a better success than others, and today was clearly not one of those better days.

"I thought of a new article for you," Francis said after he felt certain that his hair was acceptably dry. "'Why a good raincoat is a sound investment for any parent.'"

Arthur smirked. He always liked when Francis tried to contribute to his blog, even if his ideas were usually only half serious.

Five years ago, Arthur never would have considered starting his own blog, but back then he had been far too focused on hating his job and resenting his life. Yet after a year of being unemployed and (genuinely) look for work, Arthur found himself writing in his spare time, something he hadn't done since college. It was then that Francis had suggested he try his hand at writing professionally, an idea that Arthur, shamefully, had not thought about since dropping out of graduate school. His blog was started soon after, a site filled with gardening tips, parenting techniques, and (much to Francis's endless amusement) advice on maintaining a functional marriage. His better ideas he sold to magazines, but his blog itself was a modest success with enough sponsors to be considered more than just a simple hobby.

"Nice try, but I already have an idea for this week's article," he said as he stood and lifted Angelique into his arms, "'when to let new parents work things out on their own.'"

Francis rewarded him with a look that couldn't quite be called a glare as there was far too much humor in his eyes. "I see, so that is why you ignored the house phone? You know he _always_ calls me when no one answers at home!"

"Yes and I do recall saying you should reduce the Parenting Hotline to emergencies only," he chided as he carried Angelique over to her play area. She was getting a bit too old to be penned in, but it was the only part of the house covered in a tarp, which meant there would be no fear of water damage to the floor. "So what was the big emergency this time? Macaroni stuck in the nose?"

"No, just another update on Bertie's development," Francis admitted wearily as he made his way into the kitchen. "Apparently he tried some of Feliciano's minestrone and liked it. Feli couldn't be happier."

"If that boy's first words aren't 'marinara' there are going to be tears in that house."

"Yes, well if it is 'bratwurst' they will surely be Ludwig's." Another long suffering sigh escaped Francis as a new thought emerged. "My biggest fear is that the phone calls will double once Antonio and Lovino have _their_ baby."

Arthur chuckled as he helped Francis by washing a few vegetables (one of the few tasks he was allowed to do while they were both in the kitchen). "Yes, well let us just hope that the search for the perfect surrogate lasts at least until Bertie is walking," he teased. "Although knowing those two it'll probably take until he's school aged." He was just about to dig into the drawer to retrieve the vegetable peeler, the phone began to ring again. 

Francis turned to him on the second ring, an almost pained expression etched onto his features. "Feli cannot possibly be calling back this soon."

"Maybe Bertie's spit up looks like the island of Sicily," he joked.

Francis chuckled as he dried his hand and picked up the phone with a flat "hello." Arthur watched as his husband straightened and his jaw set, a clear sign that it was most certainly _not_ Feliciano Vargas on the other end. "Yes," Francis said flatly. "Yes. One moment." He turned to Arthur then, a gleam of something in his eyes as he smirked secretively. "Are you up for some excitement?"

"Maybe. Anything interesting?"

"Nothing that would require my talents, but it sounds right up your alley."

He smiled at that and extended his hand towards the phone. "Well, let it never be said that Captain Invincible turns away when adventure calls."


End file.
